


yellow flicker beat

by yekaterinunhhhh



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: F/F, Lesbian AU, More characters in future chapters, Porn Star AU, also there's a significant age gap, but the gap is important to plot, cis girl au, it deals with real things, like the exploitation of sex workers and stuff, this isn't one of those fluffy Isn't Porn Great porn star AUs, with feminist themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2018-12-31 18:54:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12138909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yekaterinunhhhh/pseuds/yekaterinunhhhh
Summary: “Sorry, what’s your name?”“Trixie,” the girl says quietly as she turns to face Katya.“Trixie,” Katya repeats. The name suits her. “Well, Trixie, that’s bullshit. What company do you work for?”“Diabolical Digital.”Katya’s stomach churns. Diabolical Digital is the company she had escaped from years ago, and she knows the owner well. Too well.(alternatively: the one where katya is the owner of a porn production company who pulls trixie out of a bad situation and Uh Oh, she has feelings for her)





	1. used to shout my name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm adoredykelano on tumblr, come say hi!

Expos are usually hectic for Katya, between the notoriety from her days as a porn star and the responsibility of running the booth for her company. That means she’s usually rushing through autographs and selfies while trying to keep an eye on her girls and make sure they’re not being harassed by the attendees.

Things are a little easier this year than last, with the addition of her assistant Willam and security in the form of Tempest and Kasha. Willam had overseen booth set-up while Katya had a pep talk with her girls, making sure that they all knew what the plan for the day was. Kasha and Tempest are hovering now, as the attendees filter through to meet the girls, making sure none of them are being inappropriate or making the girls uncomfortable. A few attendees recognize them, too, but between the two of them and Katya things are running smoothly.

The problem is that Katya needs to pee. Violet’s doing a silks performance on the mainstage in half an hour, which means most people will probably stop what they’re doing and head over there soon, but Katya needs to go _now_ and the booth has just been overtaken by a large group of attendees with cameras rolling and hands ready to grab without consent.

She whispers her dilemma to Willam, who crawls onto the surface of the table on her knees, struggling a bit because of the way her dress is stretched taut around her thighs.

“Good afternoon,” she announces, cupping her hands around her mouth in an attempt to increase her volume. “Welcome to the Third-Wave Studios booth. Cameras are permitted, non-consensual inappropriate touching is not. If you choose to ignore this rule,” she props her hands on her hips, “action will be taken against you in an unpleasant manner. We’re watching.”

Willam hops down from the table and looks at Katya, shooing her with a wave of her hands. “Why are you still standing here? Go.”

Katya could kiss Willam - but that’ll have to wait.

She’s having a hard time untwisting the waistband of her sheer pantyhose to pull them back up when she hears the door to the restroom swing open, and then sniffling. Katya finally gets her stockings back up and pushes the stall door open, breath leaving her when she sees the source of the sound.

Standing at the sink is a beautiful blonde who is dabbing at the moisture under her eyes with a paper towel. She’s wearing white thigh highs connected to a garter belt that disappears under the edge of her matching white corset.

“Sorry,” she murmurs to Katya. Katya can see her light pink lipstick reflected in the mirror, can see her sculpted cheekbones and her heavy eyeliner.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Katya gives her a small smile and moves to wash her hands in the sink next to her. “Are you alright?”

The girl’s lip shakes and she takes a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m just - I’m being stupid.”

Katya frowns, the only sound in the room for a moment the crinkling of the paper towels in her hands. “Did something happen?”

She shrugs, tries to avoid eye contact by reshaping some of her curls with her fingers. “Not anything important.”

Katya is openly staring at this point, an eyebrow raised. The girl catches her eye in the mirror and sighs.

“It’s nothing, really. Some attendee tried to slip their fingers under my panties and my boss yelled at me for it, said I should’ve worn a pair that showed my ass and it wouldn’t have happened.”

Katya’s rage is immediately bubbling under her skin. This type of treatment is exactly why she had left her old company at 25 and started her own in the following years, dedicated to ethical practices. They had stalled her for over two years, held her back and told her she would go bankrupt in six months, that it was a waste of time and resources, that there was nothing she could do to make the industry better - but that was over fifteen years ago, and now her business is doing better than ever.

“It’s not your fault at all,” Katya’s shaking her head and clenching her fist around the paper towel. “That’s bullshit -” She pauses. She had been about to address her by name before realizing she has no idea what her name even _is_. “Sorry, what’s your name?”

“Trixie,” the girl says quietly as she turns to face Katya.

“Trixie,” Katya repeats. The name suits her. “Well, Trixie, that’s bullshit. What company do you work for?”

“Diabolical Digital.”

Katya’s stomach churns. Diabolical Digital is the company she had escaped from years ago, and she knows the owner well. Too well.

“Oh my God,” Trixie’s eyes widen and Katya lifts her head to look at her again. “You’re - you’re Katya, aren’t you? God, you were so famous, what the hell,” she huffs out an incredulous laugh. “I like, _studied_ your techniques before my first shoot.”

That makes Katya laugh a bit, but knowing that Trixie is under the thumb of the same man who - it isn’t bearable to think about it. Katya has been trying for _years_ with her advocacy group to get Diabolical Digital shut down.

“What happened to you?” Trixie tilts her head, bright blue eyes sparkling with curiosity. “You were in your prime and you just… stopped acting.”

“Short answer? Ed was a dick. I was a Diabolical girl, too, before I wriggled my way out of the contract.”

Trixie’s jaw drops and she shifts on her feet, almost imperceptibly moving further from Katya. “You… you got out of your contract? I’ve been hearing the other girls whisper about it since I started three months ago but I didn’t think the rumors were true. Ed said he let you go.”

Katya tries not to laugh in Trixie’s face. “You know Ed, Trixie,” she shakes her head. “Do you really think he would just let a girl walk out of there?”

Trixie swallows, eyes flitting down to the tile floor. She stays silent. Katya supposes she doesn’t have anything to say to that - she knows she didn’t have anything to say about it ten years ago when her mentor Ru had asked her the same thing.

“I should probably get back…” Trixie mumbles.

“Can I walk you back to your booth?” Katya hasn’t known Trixie for more than a total of ten minutes, but she’s already strangely protective of the girl. There’s something in Trixie that Katya has seen before, she’s seen it in the other girls she’s pulled out of Diabolical. Even after months with Ed, Trixie still has hope he isn’t who the rumors say he is. Katya needs to get her away from him before he ruins her trust in everyone. She scribbles her cell on the back of a Third-Wave Studios business card and hands it to Trixie.

“Call me if you need anything at all, okay?”

Trixie looks confused, but she takes the business card.

“I know it’s entirely your own business, but Ed… he’s really not a good guy. If anything happens - I’ve made a career out of helping girls like us. I’d be happy to help,” Katya smiles softly, hoping the gesture is reassuring. “Anything at all. Even if you want to stay with Diabolical.”

“Thank you.” Trixie’s voice is small when she responds, almost as if she were a wounded animal who had never been shown human compassion. Katya doesn’t know her story, but she can’t help but want to.

They push through the restroom door and Katya and Trixie walk through the crowd together, Katya’s bright red dress stark contrast next to Trixie’s all white ensemble. A few strangers ask for selfies with the two of them, a couple people ask for autographs, most of them mention to Katya that they’re on their way to see Violet’s performance. Katya smiles politely, nods, and she’s courteous, but she’s also got a rage simmering inside of her. Katya isn’t looking forward to seeing Ed, but she can’t help but wonder if maybe he’s changed.

When she sees his snarling face, she knows he hasn’t.

“What are you doing with her?” Ed grabs Trixie by the wrist and roughly pulls her behind the counter, away from Katya. “She’s fucking nuts, I told you to stay away from her.”

“Calm down, Ed,” Katya rolls her eyes. “All I did was walk her from the bathroom back to your booth to make sure no one else tried to assault her again.” Her eyes drift to where Ed’s fingers are still wrapped tightly around Trixie’s wrist. “Seems you’re doing enough of that for everyone, though.”

“What do you mean?” Ed follows Katya’s gaze and drops Trixie’s wrist. Trixie quickly steps back to huddle in with the other girls, rubbing the red mark from Ed’s fingers and gazing hopelessly toward Katya. She looks like she wants to apologize for Ed’s reaction, but Katya is much too familiar with the horrid man to even be shocked.

The booth is nearly entirely empty, save the few Diabolical employees.

“You know exactly what I mean,” she spits the words at him, turning on her heel to walk away.

“Stay away, bitch,” he calls from behind her. “You’ll regret it if you don’t!”

She raises her middle finger over her shoulder, refusing to look back at him, and heads over to the mainstage where one of her girls is captivating the entire crowd of the expo.

* * *

 

It’s been almost two weeks since the expo, and Katya hasn’t stopped wondering about Trixie. She knows it can take a while to admit things are bad, or maybe they really aren’t bad for Trixie. She doesn’t believe that for one second, knowing Ed as well as she does, but she hopes it’s the case.

Katya’s been to work every day this week, drowning in numbers from finance and strategy meetings with the marketing team. She’s exhausted; it’s Friday night and she’s just gotten home to change out of her white button-front blouse and her charcoal grey pencil skirt. She wants desperately to just put on her pajamas, sprawl across her couch with the remote in hand and watch reruns of Extreme Couponing that she’s seen two or eight times before until she falls asleep with her cheek pressed into the arm of the sofa and a bowl of popcorn clutched to her chest.

The problem with that plan is that she had promised to visit Adore at the club tonight; it’s their busiest night of the week and Adore is her most popular girl. She’d apparently been working on a new pole trick that she’d finally nailed. Katya had agreed to swing by a couple days ago, before her meeting with the advocacy group today had drained her almost completely. But Katya doesn’t break promises to her girls, so she’s in the middle of buttoning her skintight black jeans when her phone buzzes, signaling a call.

She hesitates at the unknown number before she recalls that she’d never received Trixie’s. “Hello?”

“Hi, Katya?” Her voice is soft and high, and Katya feels a warmth wash over her.

“Trixie?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” She sounds as nervous as Katya feels.

And Katya feels very nervous for a reason she can’t quite pin down.

“I was wondering if you were um… if we could still talk? Like about… about…” Trixie can’t bring herself to say it. Katya knows what she wants to say, she knows she wants to ask for help but she can’t yet. She remembers when she was in Trixie’s position, scared and not sure what to do, or even what to ask. She knows acutely just how hopeless it can feel when you realize you need out and you have no idea where the exit is.

“Sure, Trixie. Let’s talk about your options.”

The phrase makes Trixie let out a tiny a sigh of relief. Katya is so glad that there are options for Trixie, and she’s so glad that she can help her figure out which option is best for her.

“Um, is tonight okay? I have a - I have something tomorrow that I need to do.”

Katya closes her eyes, lips stretching up into a tight smile. The vague statement makes Katya’s stomach twist but she knows it’s not her place to ask, so she isn’t going to pry. “I’m going to a club tonight, if you want to meet me there?”

“Sure! Yeah, anywhere that’s convenient for you is great,” Trixie’s voice sounds considerably calmer at the proposed meeting.

They agree to meet in an hour at the Marxxx, and Katya tries not to feel oddly self-conscious when she tucks the hem of her polkadot blouse into the front of her waistband before she walks into the club.

She’s sitting at a high table to the side of the stage, her stilettos hooked over the rail on the bottom of her chair, knee bouncing absentmindedly. Katya can’t sit still, really. She’s sure it’ll be her downfall.

The lights of the stage are spinning and bouncing off the wood tabletops and stainless steel chairs as more and more people trickle in through the entrance.

Her straw is in her mouth when she’s tapped on the shoulder and she jumps, nearly spilling her mojito in her lap. She whips around to look at whoever it was that had tapped her, and is faced with Trixie herself, standing there in a pale pink jumpsuit and a nervous smile.

Trixie rubs her hand over her arm, her gold glitter manicure sparkling under the blue lights.

“Did I scare you? I’m so sorry,” she shifts nervously on her white platforms, eyes shifting around the club.

“It’s alright, don’t sweat it. Why don’t you have a seat? I think Laila’s about to go on.” Katya moves her bag from the chair next to her, opening it up for Trixie to sit in just as Laila steps on stage.

Trixie settles in, crossing her legs. “So, what made you want to help… girls like me?”

“Well, the short answer is that I _was_ a girl like you,” Katya shrugs.

“No, you were - God, you were like, _so_ famous. You were such a big deal! I’m just a nobody.” Trixie is picking at her cuticles while she talks.

Katya can’t help her frown at that. “You’re not a nobody. When I was in the business, things were a little different - there weren’t as many options for online streaming, so the companies that could support that medium became extremely popular. Unfortunately, Diabolical was one of the first to stake a claim. There just weren’t as many companies producing porn so the ones that did had a bigger audience - but the market is only growing. Now there are so many production companies and so many actors that to actually make it big is incredibly difficult. If I started out in the business with the climate the way it is right now, I’m sure I wouldn’t even have a fraction of the popularity I found back then.”

Trixie nods slightly, but her eyes are glued to the stage where Laila is dazzling the audience. Laila is one of her most popular girls, so Katya isn’t at all shocked at her enchanting Trixie. Katya’d been enchanted the first time she watched her, too.

“This club is incredible,” Trixie gushes while Laila flits backstage. Her eyes are sparkling and she looks genuinely excited as Adore takes the stage.

“Thank you,” Katya beams at her. “I’m very proud of it, the team here is unbelieveable. I really couldn’t have found better.”

“You… you own this club?” Trixie’s head tilts to the side, her blond curls tumbling to rest behind her shoulder.

“Well, yes. I thought the name might’ve given that away to you,” Katya laughs, sipping the last of her mojito and setting the glass down on the table.

“Right, the Marxxx… I guess I should’ve known,” Trixie giggles. “But I thought you owned Third-Wave?”

Katya uncrosses and then recrosses her legs in the opposite direction, her hands coming to rest on top of her knees. “After I got out of Diabolical, I dedicated my life to helping girls in situations like I was. I had been in the business, I had seen the ugliness, but I had also seen the goodness. I had seen the freedom it afforded those fortunate enough to find a good place to work. And I wanted to extend that freedom as far as I could.”

“Yeah but I guess I just assumed that you helped other film stars. It never occurred to me that you had a club. That’s really cool, though,” Trixie smiles warmly at Katya.

“Two clubs, actually. One here and another in LA, my friend Ginger manages that one. And I’m working on opening a third in New York, my friend Bianca is coming down here soon to see how Tempest manages the original and then I’m flying out there for the opening. And I’ve been working on opening a Burlesque club, as well - I have some girls from the Marxxx in LA who have been chomping at the bit, and Violet is more than ready to lead the transition for anyone here who wants to switch over. And Third-Wave works closely with an advocacy group that fights for the rights of all kinds of sex workers.”

“You’re, like… amazing? God, I had heard you were cool but they really undersold just how amazing you are.”

Katya feels a flush creep down her neck - Trixie is looking at her like she’s the most incredible person who’s ever existed. She hopes the redness is subtle enough that she can pass it off as a side effect of her mojito, but she knows her body better than that and there’s no way a buzz could excuse her brightly flushed skin.

There’s a long moment of silence before Trixie tilts her head again. “What made you so passionate about the club side of things, though? I mean, I know you care so much about places like Diabolical because you saw the film star experience first hand… were you ever a dancer?”

Katya clears her throat and sits up a bit straighter, collecting her thoughts momentarily. What was it that made her so passionate about this? It’s a question she’s been asked so many times she knows the answer backwards and forwards, but it’s just as sincere every time she gives it.

“I wasn’t ever a dancer, no… I knew a lot of them, but that’s kind of the thing, Trixie. People are hurting. People are hurting everywhere. And if I can help even a fraction of those people… well, I feel like I need to do that.”

Trixie opens her mouth to respond but the crowd’s cheering is dialed up a few decibels, cutting her off, and then Adore is draping herself over Katya’s lap and Trixie’s mouth is clamped shut.

“Kitty,” Adore squeals, arms wrapping around Katya’s waist. “I’m so glad you could make it tonight!”

Katya puts a steady hand on Adore’s back, a small laugh sneaking out between her smiling lips. “I promised I’d be here, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Adore shrugs, pressing her face into Katya’s neck, “but you’re always so busy I wasn’t expecting you to actually come.”

“Of course I came. I can’t break a promise, especially not one I made to my best girl. I always have time for you.” Katya’s hand is moving in small circles against Adore’s spine and the girl is nearly purring at the affectionate movement.

Trixie leans forward, hands folded on the table and a shy smile on her face. “You were amazing up there.”

“I know, thanks,” Adore is grinning when she pulls back from Katya’s neck to look at Trixie, but her face drops as she takes her in, eyes scanning up and down. “Wait, who are you?”

Katya notices Trixie’s smile falter and takes the opportunity to step in. “Adore, this is Trixie.”

“Oh,” Adore looks back at Katya. “Are you two-”

“No! No, she’s from Diabolical,” Katya says quickly. She hopes it wasn’t too quickly, she knows how suspicious it can seem when you deny things too quickly. And she really doesn’t want to make it obvious how attractive she finds Trixie. She’s spent a long time building up her reputation as a proper and trustworthy owner, and she doesn’t want that to go away because of some stupid school-girl crush. She’s too old for that shit - Trixie is probably twenty-five years her junior, anyway.  “She’s the girl from the expo. She called and wanted to talk about her options.”

Adore nods, turns back to Trixie and extends a hand to grasp onto both of Trixie’s in their spot on the table. Katya can see Trixie’s muscles freeze in place at the contact. “You’re what, nineteen?”

“Twenty,” Trixie corrects. Katya was right, then. Twenty-five years.

“Girl,” Adore sighs. “Get out of there as fast as you can. Nothing good happens to Diabolical girls, and you’re much too young to be ruined like that.”

“Did you, like, know someone, or…” Trixie looks somewhat alarmed at Adore’s statement - Katya would like to tell her that what Adore said isn’t true, would like to give her peace of mind, but she can’t. Adore wasn’t lying.

Adore lets out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “I mean, I knew plenty of girls, but I know first hand how terrible Ed is as a person.”

Katya frowns, her hand resuming its circles against Adore’s back. She doesn’t like thinking about the things her girls have gone through, but that doesn’t make them any less real, and she knows it’s important to face the facts when it comes time. And when you’re trying to convince someone to let you help them out of a bad situation they feel trapped in, it’s time.

“I was barely eighteen when I met him, he was a regular at the club I started out at. He started paying for private dances nearly every night I was in - always me, I guess he would come in some nights and if I wasn’t there he wouldn’t tip anyone. If someone did that here Tempest would tell them to get lost, but the owner was his friend so I guess Ed got a pass.”

Trixie is staring at Adore, interest drawing her forward on her seat.

“He’d bring me things to give me after the private dances, or he’d send things backstage for me. Nice things - expensive shoes, lingerie, jewelry, all on top of the hefty tips he was already giving me for the dances. Eventually, a few weeks before I turned nineteen he finally convinced me to go out to dinner with him. I don’t know,” Adore’s eyes drop to the tabletop, tracing the grain of the dark wood. “But then suddenly I was with him nearly every night, staying for days at a time at his house - my mom was worried sick about me. She’s my best friend, so she knew about my job and she was really cool about it, but she was really worried when Ed came around. He convinced me that she was paranoid, that she was judging my choices unfairly. He told me to move in with him, and I did without a second thought. He completely isolated me from her and then he started making me-”

Katya’s eyes scan Adore’s face as she abruptly stops her story. She’s hurting, Katya can tell. “You don’t have to finish the story if it hurts too bad, sweetheart,” Katya squeezes Adore’s hand where it’s resting in her lap.

“I want to.” Adore takes a few deep breaths while Katya looks over at Trixie, who looks upset and uncomfortable.

“You don’t have to -” Trixie begins, but Adore cuts her off with a glance.

“I do, I need to get it out. I need to say it.” Adore is staring now, and she’s staring hard. “He started... offering me out to his friends. And I wasn’t comfortable with it - not that I judge girls who do that, obviously, but that’s not what I wanted to do with my life. But he said since I was living with him rent free, I owed him. I couldn’t afford to pay rent anyway, not where he lived, and I had nowhere else to go because he had turned me against my mom. And then it grew from just a couple friends to complete strangers - he started listing me on all kinds of sites, and he wasn’t paying me. He wasn’t making sure I was safe. He would put an ad up while I was working at the club, get the money, and then when I got home he would be gone and a stranger would knock on the door.”

Trixie doesn’t say anything, but Katya can hear her body language screaming her discomfort. She doesn’t know what’s going on in Trixie’s life, not the gritty details of it, but she feels a deep need to comfort her, even just a little bit.

“So when we met,” Katya starts, and Trixie’s eyes leave the tabletop to lock onto hers. “Adore was in a bad place. I had just helped Laila get out of the same club Adore worked at, and I saw her with Ed, and I knew I needed to get her out of there, too.”

“I have no idea what my life would be right now if Kitty hadn’t saved me,” Adore lets go of Trixie’s hand, goes back to hugging around Katya’s middle. “I’d honestly probably be dead by now. And that’s just the truth, that’s not me being dramatic.”

Trixie’s phone dings in her purse and she jumps at the noise, looking at the device quickly. “I - I’m sorry, I have to go.”

“Wait, Trixie -” Katya tries to get her attention for a moment but Trixie is halfway to the door already, and Adore is still sprawled over her lap. “Trixie!”

“I’ll call you later,” Trixie shouts over her shoulder.

Katya stares at her back as she disappears, the red door closing hard behind her and sealing her out of sight.

* * *

 

It’s three in the morning, the tv channel Katya had put on hours ago to play the Saturday night primetime shows has long switched over to poorly-produced infomercials, and Katya is dozing off on the couch. She’s tucked under a blanket, mouth hanging open slightly when the ringer on her phone jolts her awake. She scrambles off of the couch to lunge for her phone, knowing that at this hour it’s probably something important.

“Hello?” There’s silence on the other line, and Katya is about to hang up when she hears a shuffling noise. She didn’t have time in her haste to look at the name displayed on the screen, so she pulls the device away from her ear to peek at it.

“Trixie? Are you there?”

“Katya?” Trixie’s voice is usually warm and high, but that’s not the case now. Katya knows something must be wrong, because she’s whispering and it sounds like she might be holding back tears.

“Trixie, is everything alright?”

There’s another pause, what Katya thinks might be a sniffle, and then Trixie is answering. “I just, I know I shouldn’t have called you, I don’t want to bother you and it’s late but I - I’m alone and I have nowhere to go and-”

Katya cuts off her babbling. “Trixie, what happened? Where are you?”

“I’m, um,” more shuffling noises ensue as she looks around to see where she is. “On seventh near Elm?”

Katya’s heart sinks. Trixie is in a dangerous part of the city distressed and alone.

“I’m on my way.”

Katya jams her bare feet into a pair of old sneakers by the door and grabs her keys from the hook, jogging out to her car. Her baggy grey sweatpants slide down further on her hips and she yanks them back up as she climbs into the driver’s seat, heading out of her quiet suburban neighborhood toward Trixie.

Her mind is racing. What was Trixie doing downtown, anyway? Why was she alone?

Trixie is sitting on the curb under a street lamp when Katya pulls up, her head is buried in her hands and Katya thought she’d be less worried after seeing her, but she is infinitely more worried about her now that she’s sitting in front of her. She’s wearing something gauzy and yellow, Katya thinks it looks more like a nightgown than a dress and she isn’t wearing shoes. Her hair is disheveled, her usual long curls tangled and messy.

There’s a motel across the street, most of the lights in the sign are out, leaving only the words “no vacancy” in buzzing bright red letters.

Trixie makes no move to get up and into the car as it idles a few meters away from the curb, so Katya puts it in park and hops out. The door slamming shut makes Trixie pull her hands away from her face and Katya can feel a deep fissure opening up in her chest.

Trixie’s thick eyeliner is smudged with tears, her eyes are red and her fingers are shaking. But Katya’s gaze is entirely focused on her lower lip, swollen and split in the corner with bright red blood gathered around the wound.

“Trixie, oh my God,” Katya crouches next to her, reaching out a tentative hand to hook her fingers gently under her chin, turning her face to scan her features closer. There are a couple freckles peeking out from the tear tracks left in her thick foundation, and up this close Katya can see where her pink lipstick had feathered out on the edges. “What happened?”

Trixie pulls back, standing up and looking around quickly. “Can we talk about this somewhere else?”

Katya nods, going to open the passenger door for Trixie before getting into the car herself. She starts to drive, sticking her arm into the backseat as she maneuvers with one hand on the steering wheel.

“What are you doing?” Trixie shifts closer to the door to look at Katya.

“I have some-” Katya produces what she was digging for, a pair of light blue flip flops covered in small cartoon avocados. “They’re obviously not the most glamourous shoes, but I’ve got a cobblestone driveway and…” She trails off, gesturing toward Trixie’s bare feet.

Trixie takes the flip flops with a small grateful smile, reaching down to slip them on. Katya notices that there are scrapes along the top of one foot, tiny shards of gravel clinging to the broken skin. She’s going to have to make sure she cleans Trixie up when they get back to her house.

A silence falls over the car as Katya heads out of the city, imposing buildings giving way to small manufactured homes at first, gradually growing until they’re turning down Katya’s road, lined with a couple other spacious ranch houses. Trixie’s eyes widen slightly as Katya pulls into her driveway.

The house is set back from the road,  privacy hedges along the perimeter of the large lot blocking most of the yard from outside view. Trixie is looking at the house like it’s the largest home she’s ever seen, and Katya finds it endearing in a way. Her house isn’t actually that big - it’s only two bedrooms and about two thousand square feet, but its one story structure makes it look much larger than it is. She’d probably looked the same way when she viewed it for the first time.

Katya doesn’t notice until they’re inside, but Trixie is walking with a slight limp and that knowledge feels like a fist around her heart. She steers Trixie toward the bathroom and gestures toward the counter.

“Hop up there, let me take care of you.” Katya rummages around in the drawer next to the sink, pulling out a pair of tweezers and a box of bandages. She grabs the neosporin and rubbing alcohol from the cabinet behind the mirror and wipes down the tweezers before reaching down to carefully lift Trixie’s foot.

“You’ve done enough, really,” Trixie says quietly. She looks like she might start crying again any second and Katya’s not sure if she can handle seeing that again so soon, so she focuses in and sets to work removing the debris from Trixie’s wound. “You’ve been so wonderful, but I can clean myself up - it’s so late and I’m sure you’ve got something important to do in the morning.”

“I don’t, actually,” Katya looks up from where she’s crouched, a smile on her lips that she hopes is reassuring. “It’s Sunday. I take Sundays off.”

It’s a lie, if she’s honest with herself - Katya goes to a sunrise yoga class every Sunday. But right now taking care of Trixie is infinitely more important.

“Oh,” is Trixie’s soft reply, her eyes refusing to meet Katya’s.

Silence falls over them again as Katya works, only a few more moments and then she’s standing up, bandages secured over the top of Trixie’s foot. She leans in close to Trixie’s face to examine her split lip, and she swears they’re both holding their breath.

There’s a moment of eye contact and then Katya is backing away, blinking hard and trying to gather her wits.

“Um, I don’t think it needs a stitch, just… maybe a shower would be good?” Katya hasn’t noticed until now and she’s not quite sure how she missed it, but Trixie is shivering and there are goosebumps raised on her flesh. “I can bring you some warmer clothes to change into afterward.”

“That would be great,” Trixie agrees, and for the first time since Katya picked her up, she doesn’t look like she’s milliseconds away from a complete meltdown.

Katya smiles - she’ll consider this a victory, however small it may be in the grand scheme of things. She pads through to her closet, gathering a pair of sweats and a long sleeved shirt and bringing them back to Trixie.

“Thank you so much,” there’s a tiny smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Of course. There are towels in there,” Katya motions toward the linen closet. “And I’ll be out in the living room when you’re done, so we can talk about what happened.”

Trixie nods and Katya leaves the bathroom, pulling the door closed behind her.

Katya uses the time Trixie is showering to put fresh sheets on the bed in the guest room, adding an extra blanket across the foot of the bed in case Trixie gets cold. She pads back into her own bedroom, ready to change into pajamas before remembering that it’s the middle of the night and she’d already been ready for bed. She settles into the chair in the corner of her living room, perching her reading glasses on her nose and opening the book she’d been reading.

“What book is that?” Trixie walks out of the hallway and into the center of the living room, scrunching the towel around her dripping wet curls.

Katya jumps slightly - it’s been long enough that she’d gotten sucked into the book, and Trixie’s voice was an abrupt call back to reality.

“Global Woman. It’s about the feminization of migrant work. Really quite interesting,” Katya slides a bookmark in between the pages and sets the book back on her side table.

“You’re like, really smart,” Trixie mutters as she moves toward Katya.

“I don’t know about that,” Katya shrugs. “I think I’m just interested in how I can make the world better. I think everyone should do what they can to help people with problems, and in order to do that you have to know what the problems are.”

Trixie hums, leaning her hip against the arm of Katya’s chair. “So, smart _and_ compassionate. Got it.”

Katya shakes her head, heat rising to her cheeks. What is _with_ her lately? Has she really been reduced to some fifteen year old girl with a crush who blushes all the time? She sets her glasses on top of her book and stands, now face-to-face with Trixie.

“I set up a bed, some extra blankets, things like that,” Katya changes the subject. She’s mad at herself for blushing, angry that she’s let her attraction to Trixie affect her.

“Oh,” Trixie murmurs, face falling as she stares at the carpet.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, I just thought…” Trixie looks back up at Katya, taking a small step forward. “I just thought maybe you’d want me in here, with you…”

Katya must be having a stroke. Either that or her attraction to Trixie has just made her insane, at this point either option is likely. Because there’s certainly no way Trixie is implying what Katya thinks she is.

But then Trixie’s hand is on her cheek, she’s leaning forward and letting her eyelids flutter closed, and Katya leans into her touch before she’s shocked back to reality, taking a step backward.

“Trixie? W- what are you doing?”

Redness erupts across Trixie’s freckled cheeks, “Oh, I just… I thought you wanted -”

“What would give you that idea?” Katya shakes her head, taking another step away from Trixie. She needs space, that’s what she needs right now, just to be a few steps away and able to think clearly.

“I’m sorry, I just,” tears spring to Trixie’s eyes and Katya feels her chest ache. “I thought… I’m sorry, I’ll just go. I wouldn’t want to come between you and Adore.”

Katya’s head is spinning. She’d almost kissed Trixie - well, almost let Trixie kiss her. That knowledge numbs the meaning of Trixie’s words until Trixie has already left the room, crossed the hall into the guest bedroom and she hears the click of the lock.

Adore?

She’s not sure exactly what had just happened, but she’ll be forced awake again for her morning yoga class in a couple hours and she needs to sleep.

Katya heads to her bedroom, closes her door and crawls into bed, but her eyes stay glued to her ceiling until her alarm blares just as the early morning sun is filtering in through the sheer curtains.


	2. now they whisper it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a long time coming, but thank you all so much for your patience and your enthusiasm for this story.  
> This chapter (and fic) deals with a lot of heavy stuff, if you're easily triggered it probably isn't the best fic for you. I'm sorry for the wait, but once again thank you for your patience.  
> A special thanks to ourforgottenboleros over on tumblr for listening to my constant rambling about this universe and being my own personal cheerleader, you're a real one.

Katya is drenched in sweat and desperate for a shower when she gets back from her yoga class. She’d normally shower at the gym, but she had no idea when Trixie would wake up and she wanted to get home to make breakfast before that happened.

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t also a little concerned that Trixie would already be gone by the time she returned home, after their awkward encounter last night. But her fears are quickly subdued when Trixie shuffles down the hall just as Katya is putting the last pancake on the platter.

“Good morning,” she smiles warmly, grabbing a dishrag from a drawer and wiping down the counter. “I made coffee, pancakes, bacon, and I can whip up some eggs if you’d like. Or if you’d prefer something else-”

“No, pancakes are great. Thank you so much.” Trixie won’t meet Katya’s eyes, staring instead toward the coffee pot.

“Mugs are in the cupboard just above the coffee,” Katya prompts. When Trixie stretches up to reach the shelf, the shirt she’s wearing raises just high enough that Katya can see the dimples at the base of her spine. She clears her throat and shakes her head slightly, forcing her attention away from the strip of smooth, tanned skin. Trixie sets two mugs side-by-side on the counter and Katya tries not to let her heart swell at the domesticity of it all.

“I, um- I need to go shower, actually, I just got home from yoga,” Katya swipes the dishrag over her abdomen, where stray flour from her frantic pancake making has collected in streaks on her thin tank top. She rinses the rag and squeezes as much moisture out as she can, hangs it over the side of the sink and starts to head toward her bedroom without looking at Trixie again.

She’s tired, that’s all. Her brain isn’t firing on all cylinders, that’s why she can’t stop staring. A shower will fix that, she hopes - she doesn’t want Trixie to get the wrong impression.

“Hey,” Trixie calls from behind her, making her freeze with her hand on her door handle. So close.

She sucks in a deep breath before she turns around, “Yeah?”

“I just wanted to, um,” Trixie picks up her steaming mug, wraps her hands around it and examines it carefully before she looks back at Katya. “I wanted to apologize for last night. I was scared, I guess, and my natural instinct-”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Katya insists. She feels her brows draw together in sincerity. “You went through a lot last night, I understand that.”

Trixie shifts on her feet, “Um, okay. Yeah. Well, I’m sorry anyway.”

Katya sighs softly, turning the doorknob while still facing Trixie. “We’ll talk more about this after I shower, yeah?”

Trixie nods gently.

“I’m not mad at you,” she reassures. Trixie’s shoulders release the tension they’d been holding since she walked out of the guest bedroom this morning. “Promise.”

Katya waits another moment to move, until Trixie settles into the chair at the counter with her cup of coffee. She supposes maybe it’s just her own anxiety-ridden personality, that maybe she’s been projecting a skittish nature onto her that she doesn’t have, but she had really expected Trixie to try to make a break for it this morning while she was gone.

Yeah, maybe it’s just Katya’s own traits trying to find their way out of her subconscious and onto Trixie. It seems increasingly likely when she reaches to turn the water on and finds her hands trembling.

She stretches both of her arms out, rotates her wrists in circles, rolls her neck side to side, trying to shake the uneasiness from her body by force. The sweat-laden sports bra drops to the bathmat with a soft thump and Katya climbs into the shower, the hot water hitting her already flushed skin.

She knows it’s not good for her skin, but outside of her expensive skincare routine almost nothing she does is. The tiny woman at the spa where she goes for her monthly facial is always scolding her about drinking too much coffee, about laying out in the sun, about taking hot showers, about smoking. At one point in her life Katya might’ve cared, but she is far past denying herself things she enjoys for the sake of aging gracefully. She might’ve cared at twenty, or even at thirty, when her self-doubt was at an all time high with the launch of her new company. But at forty-five, Katya is through compromising her own comfort for the benefit of others.

So she stands under the hot spray for longer than necessary when she’s done washing her hair and scrubbing her skin with the loofah, exits the shower when her whole body has turned a satisfying shade of pink. The skin across her shoulder blades tingles a little from being exposed to the near-scalding water for so long, and the plush of her ivory robe feels cool against them when she ties it tightly at her waist.

She pads to her closet and drops her robe, wet hair clinging to her back and running droplets of water across her skin. She should care more, she supposes while she’s piling her waves into a bun on the top of her head, should want to dry her hair out and put together an outfit fit for a CEO.

But she’s fastening her unlined bra and buttoning her striped shirt before she second-guesses her choice, throwing a sweater over it and heading back into the kitchen in her glasses, hair still stacked in a top knot.

Forty-five minutes have passed, but Trixie is still exactly where Katya left her. There’s a brief moment of relief before she realizes that Trixie has probably stayed there because she’s not comfortable enough to move to the couch, and then a small frown plays on her features.

“You didn’t have to just sit here,” Katya says as she enters the kitchen, grabbing her own mug and popping a plate of pancakes into the microwave to reheat. “You’re welcome to anything in any room of the house, make yourself at home.”

Trixie blushes slightly and runs her fingers across the crescent moon carved into the glaze of the ceramic mug in her hands. Katya hadn’t been sure about the purchase when she made it at the farmer’s market a few weeks back, but seeing the mug in Trixie’s hands somehow made it feel right. Katya preferred rich hues, deep reds and blues, but now it seems like there was a reason the baby pink mug had called to her.

And she’s certainly glad she listened.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to talk about… about what happened yesterday?” Trixie’s voice snaps Katya out of her thoughts and grounds her in the present.

“Right. Well, I think…” Katya shifts uncomfortably on her feet. She doesn’t want to force Trixie to tell her anything, but as much as she knows she doesn’t really want to be briefed on the details, she’s aware that to help Trixie she needs to be. “Obviously it’s up to you what you want to share and not share. But I think it would be helpful for me to know what happened before I picked you up, so that I know how best to help you from here on out.”

Trixie takes a deep breath, leans back in her chair. Katya can tell she’s debating internally about exactly what she wants to disclose, but then she’s straightening her spine and making direct eye contact with Katya.

“I live with my boyfriend, currently.” Her voice is strong but her fingers are trembling against the side of the mug.

Katya pretends not to notice.

“For the past couple of weeks, Ed has been wanting me to stay late for shoots, and at first Brock didn’t notice because he stays out until the early morning and comes home completely tanked. But one night last week he came home early and I wasn’t there, and he started coming home early every night to check up on me.”

Katya doesn’t know where this is going, can only imagine how this backstory led Trixie to the curb downtown in a nightgown in the middle of the night. But Katya’s heart is already aching, and she already wants to suckerpunch Brock right in the teeth.

“I was just trying to do my job, because right now I’m the one barely scraping together rent for our shitty studio and squeezing out extra side jobs for grocery money. He knows what I do as a profession, so I figured the long shoots were worth it, because I get paid extra for them. I tried to explain that to him, I tried from the first night, but he didn’t care. He had always had a temper but… I wasn’t ever afraid of him, not until he started drinking at home instead of staying out. Not until he started thinking that I was sleeping with Ed behind his back.”

Katya’s pulse picks up, she can feel it kicking beneath her ribs as her fingers squeeze around the blue mug in her hands.

“He didn’t hit me, he never hit me but… he broke dishes, cabinet doors were ripped off the hinges. The small amount of savings I managed to have, I thought I was clever in hiding it rolled in empty tampon wrappers in the box stashed under the bathroom sink because he was, like… fucking afraid of tampons, or whatever. But he found it and… God,” she shakes her head. “It wasn’t even that much, it was less than eight hundred dollars which is nowhere near enough to make a getaway like I had planned. But he took it all, every cent of it, because I had to tell him I was saving up to buy him a birthday present. The look on his face, I was… I didn’t know what he was going to do.”

“The money appeased him for a little while -- he was too coked out to care where I was, I guess. I don’t know. But Friday night when I got that call and had to leave, that was him. He sounded sober, and he sounded sorry. He said he used the money left to book us a cheap motel for two nights, as a way for me to make it up to him, to pay him back for all my lying and sneaking around. I really thought things were going to be alright, y’know?” Trixie’s eyes are shining in the soft afternoon light streaming in through the kitchen window and Katya’s breath nearly catches.

She looks so vulnerable right now, so soft and afraid. And if Katya didn’t know better, if she didn’t care so much about crossing the line, if -- the list could go on forever. But if things were different, she thinks, if she was just a friend helping a friend, and not someone in a position of power, she might go over to Trixie and wrap her up in her arms. She wants to shield Trixie from the world. If things were different she might smooth the worry lines wrinkling her forehead with the pad of her thumb, might kiss the crease between her brows and tell her that everything was going to be okay.

But things aren’t different, and Katya’s much older and more well-established, and she can’t cross that line, and Trixie is staring at Katya, expecting an answer. Katya almost can’t remember the question.

“Yeah,” she nods eventually, setting the mug on the counter and turning to pour herself more coffee, desperate for something to do with her hands. “I do understand that.”

Trixie sighs, looks down and swirls the contents of her cup around in her hands. “Friday night was fine. It was just the two of us, some food he’d ordered from the diner next door and a pay-per-view movie. It was something he wanted to watch, but he wasn’t mad at me for once so I didn’t care. I would’ve given him anything he wanted at that point to keep him content. And I… I did. You don’t need details, but -- well, we’d been fighting for a week straight at this point so I’m sure you can guess-”

“Yeah, got it,” Katya cuts her off. Her stomach flips uncomfortably and she gives a curt nod.

“Whatever, yeah. The next day was more of the same until his friend Curt showed up with a twelve pack and some weed. They got crossfaded, I played the part of the doting girlfriend - ordered the pizza, walked to the gas station for ice, brought them a new beer every time they emptied one. It wasn’t ideal, but it was fine. Until Curt brought up a threesome. Brock thought that was a lovely idea, and he tried to convince me of it, too. I didn’t want to, but Brock isn’t exactly known for taking rejection well, and with both of them messed up I needed to find a smarter way out. So…” Trixie sets the mug down, laying her hands down on the placemat before crossing her arms over her chest defensively.

“I said ‘sure’ and I pulled down Brock’s pants -- I figured shock was my best bet at getting away from them, and so I did what I had to do. I bit him.”

“You _bit him_?” Kayta’s sure her eyebrows must’ve flown directly off of her forehead.

“I bit him. And then I grabbed what little I could and ran, as fast as possible. Curt caught up with me and we got a little tangled up, and that’s why I’m all…” She gestures to her body. “He backed me into a corner, I pretended to lean in for a kiss and I slammed his head against the wall. I tripped over him while running away but I made it. And then I realized I had nowhere else to go, no one else to call. But then I remembered what you said.”

Katya tilts her head. “What I said?”

“That first day, at the expo. When you gave me your card, you said I could call you if I needed anything. Even if I wanted to stay with Diabolical.”

Katya tries to control the disappointed look on her face at that. She had said that, and she had meant it. But she had hoped that Trixie would come to her senses sooner rather than later.

“I don’t know if I do, by the way. Want to stay with Diabolical, I mean. But you were so willing to help me no matter what I chose to do and that… I couldn’t shake that, especially after meeting with you again and hearing how dedicated you are to… God,” Trixie shakes her head, suddenly looking sheepish. “That totally sounds like I’m using you, doesn’t it?”

“No,” Katya says sternly, moving around the island to sit in the chair next to Trixie. “It doesn’t sound like that at all. I have a spare room, I have plenty of food in my fridge, and I offered to help you no matter what. You’re not using me. I’m helping you get out of a bad situation -- if you’ll let me.”

Trixie makes eye contact, wide blue eyes framed with thick lashes shining with hope. There aren’t words exchanged -- there doesn’t need to be, Trixie’s look tells Katya all she needs to know. A few moments pass before Katya breaks the eye contact, finally glances down to cut into her rewarmed pancakes.

Trixie stands, picking up her plate to walk it toward the sink, and Katya can’t help the realization that Trixie probably doesn’t have any other clothes with her. Katya is more than willing to share her clothes, but aside from her pajamas she doesn’t think Trixie will be comfortable in her clothes -- most of which are suits and all of which are too small for Trixie’s curves. And it may be the way Katya’s too-small t-shirt is stretched across Trixie’s ample bosom that reminds her of the issue, but Katya is very pointedly _not_ staring.

“Hey, I was thinking,” Katya starts as she pushes her fork around the edge of the plate, soaking up syrup. “I was going to go shopping this afternoon anyway, and I’d be more than happy to get you some things -- some clothes, toiletries, specific foods you like and things like that if you’d be alright with that?”

It isn’t the truth -- Katya has no such plans, and she hates shopping on Sundays, but she wants Trixie to feel at home and there’s no way to do that if she doesn’t have the things she needs.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to, like, impose… I know I’m already asking for a lot, I don’t want it to seem like I’m expecting anything from you. I’m really grateful for what you’ve already done for me.” Trixie picks up the sponge resting near the tap, turns on the warm water and squeezes the sponge under the stream. Her gold glitter manicure is chipped now, Katya can see. If she wasn’t certain it would make Trixie uncomfortable she’d offer to take her to get it fixed, but she knows that’s pushing it.

She suspects Trixie won’t accept anything beyond the bare essentials, even though at this point Katya is fully prepared to drop a pretty penny on anything Trixie wants. After all she’s been through, Katya rationalizes, Trixie deserves to have everything her heart desires.

“I’m sure,” Katya affirms as Trixie slides the clean plate into the draining rack on the other side of the sink. “Like I said, I was going anyway and I’m sure there are things that you don’t have that you’ll need. I want you to be comfortable here for as long as you need to stay.”

Trixie looks deep in thought for a moment as she rinses out the sponge. She reaches to dry her hands and makes eye contact with Katya, giving a small nod.

The two leave shortly after, Trixie wearing Katya’s one swing dress and a pair of combat boots Adore had left in the guest room after one of her many squabbles with Laila. Katya doesn’t dare tell Trixie where the shoes had come from despite a nagging feeling as the fleeting comment from last night bounces around in her mind.

By the time they make it to the drugstore, Katya’s only spent a fraction of what she’d expected to. Trixie had picked out a pair of jeans, a few tank tops, some leggings and a cardigan. Katya had tried to get her to pick out more, but she had refused.

“Brock should be at work tomorrow, I’ll just go get my other clothes then,” she had shrugged, setting a bottle of shampoo on the counter.

They’re about finished at the grocery store when Trixie is struck with realization, turning to Katya with eyebrows raised. “You said you wanted to go shopping today anyway, right? That was the entire reason for this trip?”

Katya nods, inserting her card into the chip reader.

“Then why didn’t you buy anything for yourself?”

Katya freezes, still long enough that the card machine beeps incessantly at her. “Um,” she starts, but she’s at a loss. She doesn’t have an answer except the truth, that she hadn’t needed anything in the first place and just wanted to take care of Trixie.

“I forgot?”

Trixie doesn’t say anything further, just gives Katya a bemused glance as she picks up handfuls of plastic bags.

The silence extends into the parking lot while Katya opens the trunk, loading groceries in plastic bags. Katya’s distracted by the ominous looking clouds until Trixie swears under her breath and Katya turns quickly to look at her, sees her finger sucked into her mouth and tears in her eyes.

“What happened?” Katya reacts instantly, reaching out for Trixie’s hand before there’s time for a second thought.

“No, I’m fine,” she mumbles around her finger, waving off Katya’s help. “I just dropped the watermelon on my hand.”

“Oh,” Katya deflates. She reaches up to shut the trunk and the two circle around to their respective sides, wind whipping at the car doors.

They’re halfway home when it starts pouring, flashes of lightning illuminating the slick pavement. “Of course, the one day I leave my umbrella in the house.”

“Maybe it’ll let up before we get to the house,” Trixie shrugs. “You never know.”

Katya raises a brow at Trixie. “You’re new to Vegas, aren’t you?”

“I’ve lived here for over a year, thank you very much,” Trixie crosses her arms over her chest. “I moved here just before my twentieth birthday.”

“When’s that?”

“My birthday? Or when I moved here?”

“Both,” Katya shrugs. The traffic ahead of them has reached a standstill, and Katya knows they won’t be home for a while. If she had to guess, someone about half a mile down the road had hydroplaned and caused an accident. People new to Vegas have no idea how to drive during monsoon season, when the floodgates open and rivers creep over the pavement.

“I moved here last July, and my birthday is at the end of August.” Trixie’s blunt nails are tapping absentmindedly on the car door. If it were anyone else, the rhythmic sound would drive Katya insane. “My mom didn’t want me to leave, but I couldn’t stand one more Wisconsin winter.”

“Are you close with your mom?”

“We were close, before I…” Trixie pauses a moment, clears her throat before continuing, “Before I moved out here and took the first job I could get my hands on. She’s very religious. We still talk, and I know she still loves me, but I think she’s stopped talking about me, you know? Like, she’s kind of ashamed or whatever. She wouldn’t tell the ladies at her church about me, that’s for sure.”

Katya doesn’t have much to say, just gives a short nod. “I understand. I’m sorry about that.”

“What about you?”

“What?” Katya turns in her seat to look at Trixie.

“What about you? Are you close with your parents?” Trixie’s eyes are soft, curious. Katya doesn’t have the heart to ruin that softness with the truth.

“We’re alright,” she forces a small smile. “Not the closest, though.”

It’s a massive understatement, but Katya doesn’t know if she can talk about it, doesn’t know if she wants to. She’s only ever told a small handful of people, and none of them stuck around long enough after for there to be a chance Trixie could find out from someone else.

Trixie gives Katya a look that she can’t quite pin down, but traffic starts moving and Katya can’t think more about it.

* * *

Katya’s reading through notes from the morning advocacy group meeting when her cell starts vibrating incessantly in her desk drawer. She nearly ignores the call but she thinks better of it and picks up the phone to a frantic Trixie whispering on the line.

“Someone’s in the house, Katya,” She starts, “I was just waking up when I heard the front door open and I know you said you’d be at work and I don’t know how Brock would have found me but--”

“Trixie,” Katya tries to cease her anxious rambling but she keeps going.

“-- I’ve barricaded myself into the closet and--”

“Trixie!”

The flow of words immediately stops and Katya almost feels bad about raising her voice, but she couldn’t think of any other way of getting her attention.

“I’m so sorry I forgot to tell you, but I have a housekeeper who comes in every Monday. Her name is Celeste, she’s five foot nothing and she wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

There’s silence on the other end of the line, and then a soft sigh, “Oh.”

“I’m so so sorry,” Katya repeats. “I should’ve told you.”

“It’s, um, I’m okay. It’s alright. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you trying to convince me of that, or yourself?”

Trixie lets out a breathless laugh, “Good question.”

“I shouldn’t have left you home alone,” Katya laments, closing the folder on her desk. She reaches over to hit the intercom button connected to the phone at Willam’s desk in one short motion, calling her into her office. “I’m going to send Willam over to pick you up and bring you into the office for the rest of the day -- you can meet some of the other girls, too. It’ll be fun.”

“I don’t know, Katya. I mean, are you sure I won’t be imposing? I don’t want to be in the way or anything.”

“Nonsense,” Katya assures her. “You still sound pretty spooked about being home alone and I don’t blame you at all for that. I’d like to think the work we do here is important, but it’s not so important that you being here will derail our entire operation.”

There’s a beat of silence before Trixie agrees, the two of them hanging up shortly after. Willam knocks briefly and then enters Katya’s office, shutting the door behind her.

“You paged me?” Her stilettos make soft thumping sounds across the short pile of the grey and blue carpet. She folds herself into the chair across from Katya’s desk, lean legs crossed as she stares at her acrylics in disinterest.

Willam’s demeanor had been off-putting initially, but she had quickly proven herself as a hard worker and a great asset the Third Wave Studios team.

“I need you to drive to my house and pick up Trixie,” Katya says plainly.

Brown eyes shoot up to meet Katya’s gaze and Willam sits up straighter in her chair, “Trixie?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Why is Trixie at your house? Did you two--”

“She called last night because she was in some trouble and I helped her out of it. Nothing happened between us,” Katya cuts off the question before it can be asked. She doesn’t need Willam getting any ideas. She scrolls and clicks on a link before going back to scribbling notes on the pad next to her keyboard.

Willam stares at her hard, tilting her head to the right slightly. “But you _want_ something to happen, right?”

Katya drops her pen, caught off guard by the flippantness of Willam’s tone.

“Don’t act so shocked. I may be kind of dumb sometimes but I’m not blind.”

“I don’t -- no! I don’t want anything to happen. She’s young, she’s in trouble, I’m trying to help her get her feet back under her.” Katya opens her desk drawer and puts her pen back, grabbing a sticky flag and marking a line in her notes.

“Maybe she’s young but she’s legal, it’s not like you’d be doing anything wrong if you got her informed consent and fucked her.”

Katya’s skin crawls at the thought of _fucking_ Trixie -- the word seems much too dirty and casual for what someone like Trixie deserves.

“Plus, it’s not like you’ve never been with younger women before. You’re kind of a cougar, come to think of it -- wait, is it still being a cougar when you’re a lesbian? Whatever,” It’s punctuated with a non-committal wave of her hand. “Wasn’t the last one -- Chloe or Cindy or whatever, wasn’t she like fifteen years younger than you?”

Katya sighs, hands coming up to rub her temples. “Fourteen. But I also met her at a Starbucks and I wasn’t trying to help her out of a bad situation where -- you know what, no. This conversation isn’t happening, I don’t want to sleep with Trixie, I don’t want to date Trixie, I don’t want to _fuck_ Trixie. I want to make sure that she’s alright. That’s it.”

“Right. Sure. She’s what, mid-to-late twenties? You’re hot, she’s hot, just go for it.” Willam tugs at the hem of her dress.

“She’s twenty,” Katya corrects.

“Oh shit,” Willam’s brows raise in shock. “She’s really young. You really are a cougar.”

Katya closes her eyes and exhales harshly through her nose. “Please shut the fuck up, and go pick her up from my house.”

Willam rolls her eyes and stands, “Whatever, Kitty Kat. I still say you should fuck her.”

“Go,” Katya pleads. “Just go.”

She leaves without another word, and Katya grabs fistfuls of hair in her hands, grateful that she hadn’t let the contractors put up glass walls for her office.

Katya takes a deep breath before standing abruptly and walking across her office, toward a bookshelf. She grabs a couple of binders and a deck of paint samples, dumping them onto her desk inelegantly. She has a meeting with Violet soon about the look of the club they’re renovating to be a Burlesque lounge.

She considers, briefly, moving the meeting into the conference room, but when she remembers there are three more decks of paint samples and Willam isn’t around to help her move them, she decides against it.

A knock on the door pulls Katya out of her mindless page turning. She’s about halfway through the second binder full of carpet samples and she can’t recall really looking at any of them.

“Come in,” she calls as she shuts the binder, standing from her chair.

Violet walks in and Katya crosses to meet them halfway, the two sharing a brief hug.

“Have a seat -- actually it might be better if you pull the chair closer to the desk.” Katya settles into her own chair and glides forward, tucking one ankle behind the other. “It’s so good to see you, I’m glad you could make it.”

“Airline miles gotta be good for something,” Violet laughs. They tug the chair closer by the arms before sitting across from Katya. “The girls in LA all send their love.”

A soft noise of fondness resonates in Katya’s throat before she speaks. “I miss them, it’s been too long since I was out there.”

“Nearly four months, now,” Violet frowns. “You used to come out all the time, we don’t know what to do without you for so long.”

“You know, it’s not like I died when I left LA. I’m just as available to you when I’m here as I am when I’m there, it isn’t my fault none of you call me. And anyway,” Katya pulls the other paint sample decks out of the large drawer next to her. “You’re in good hands. Ginger has a good head on her shoulders and I wouldn’t have ever opened a second club if I didn’t fully trust Ginger to run it. Plus, if anything ever goes awry she has me on speed dial.”

Violet sighs. “Ginger gets cranky as hell when you’re gone. And you’re so busy all the time, people don’t want to bother you.”

Katya shakes her head. “I’m never too busy for any of you, I hope you all know that I’d make time. Anyway, back to what we’re here for -- the contractors need choices on carpet, flooring, and paint colors by the end of the day today. They’re overnighting a couple different mock-ups of the plans for the bar so we can look at them with the interior designer tomorrow while we decide on seating and lighting,” she flips open a binder of flooring samples, “I’m thinking this Australian eucalyptus flooring in espresso, but the black oak herringbone is gorgeous, too.”

“The black oak herringbone is so sleek, I really think that’s the clear winner here.”

Katya jots down their choice on a sticky note and closes the binder, reaching for one of the carpeting binders she had mindlessly flipped through earlier. “Now, carpeting is an option for the dressing rooms. I think it’ll make the space a bit cosier, more comfortable for the performers.” She doesn’t have many opinions on the samples she’s barely even seen, so the room falls quiet until Violet spots a carpet she likes.

“That red one with the fleur de lis feels very... old theatre glam,” they point their finger at a sample. “Very on brand. It evokes the feeling we need to evoke, it’s a classic. Plus it goes with the curtains we discussed custom ordering via email last week that match the stage curtains. A midtone grey coat of paint on the walls would be good,” they tap a paint color.

“You’re absolutely right,” Katya nods. “I love those choices.”

Katya is writing down the sample names on her sticky note when her intercom beeps. She reaches over and presses the button, “Yes?”

“I’m back, did you miss me? I bet you did, you don’t know what to do with yourself when I’m gone,” Willam says merrily.

“Willam --”

“You haven’t fired her yet? Bitch is lucky, if I were you she’d have been out of here years ago,” Violet says sarcastically, knowing full well that Willam will hear them.

It doesn’t take more than ten seconds for Willam to burst through the door and fling herself into Violet’s lap, arms around their neck. “You stupid bitch! I totally forgot you two had a meeting today.”

Violet laughs and pats Willam’s back gently. “You forgot Katya had a meeting? Seriously, what does she pay you for?”

Willam stands, leaning her bright blue pencil-skirt clad ass against the edge of Katya’s desk and crossing her arms over her chest. “Hey! I’m an invaluable part of the Third Wave Studios team, and I won’t stand for this slander.”

“Um, hi,” a voice sounds from the door. Katya’s eyes fly away from Willam and Violet and land on Trixie, just a step outside the office.

Her hair is pulled back on one side with a jeweled comb, blonde curls tumbling over the shoulder of her loose grey cardigan. She’s wearing the singular pair of jeans she’d let Katya purchase her, a baby pink tank top tucked into the high waistband. There hadn’t been much discussion of shoes when they had gone shopping, Katya guesses it’s because she was uncomfortable with the amount of money she’d already spent, so she’s still wearing Adore’s combat boots. The outfit is simple, but Katya’s eyes are glued to Trixie anyway.

“Oh, yeah, and Trixie’s here,” Willam shrugs.

Violet snorts a short laugh. “See? A terrible assistant.”

Katya has to force herself to blink a few times before she responds to the situation, waving a hand at Trixie. “Come on in, Trixie. You’ve met Willam,” she gives Willam a steely look, “I trust she was decent to you on the ride over here.”

“God,” Willam looks at Katya over her shoulder and rolls her eyes performatively, “no, I ran every red light, blasted Nickelback, and cussed her out the entire way here. Of course I was decent to her!”

“Wait, what’s wrong with Nickelback?” Katya squints in confusion.

Three sets of eyes zero in on her.

“You can’t be serious,” Violet murmurs. “Please, tell me you’re not serious.”

Katya waits for a beat, lets them sweat for a moment before letting out a wheeze of a laugh, the other three joining in.

“God,” Katya sighs as she catches her breath, “I’m not _that_ old.”

Willam gives her a meaningful look and a wink quick enough that it only barely registers in Katya’s mind. She’d like to scoff, maybe even roll her eyes, but she doesn’t have any excuse for that behavior to Trixie and she’d rather not try to flounder for one. So she swallows her pride and turns back to looking at Trixie.

“Anyway, Trixie, this is Violet.”

“I think we met, actually,” Violet says, standing up to shake Trixie’s hand.

Trixie tilts her head slightly, confusion playing on her features.

“At the last expo. It was super brief, shortly after my performance on my way out of the building.”

Realization settles on Trixie’s face, “You almost ran me over with your gigantic suitcase. I nearly lost a foot that day.”

Violet chuckles as they settle back in their seat. “Sorry about that, I had a flight to catch -- it was the last one to LA that day. A girl’s gotta work.”

“Oh, it’s alright,” Trixie smiles, a hint of shyness in the way she’s looking at Violet. Katya hopes that she isn’t letting Violet intimidate her too much. Upon first introduction, Violet is aloof in a way that intrigues people. They don’t get close to people easily, and most romantic encounters are brief and messy because of the nature of Violet’s attitude.

Violet can be downright mean in their pursuit of the perfect lover. She hopes Trixie isn’t going to let Violet have the opportunity to swallow her heart whole.

Katya clears her throat and fans open a paint sample deck. “We can chat more after we decide on paint colors.”

Trixie starts to head out the door before Katya stops her.

“You can have a seat in here, Trixie. It shouldn’t take long at all,” she sends a bright smile Trixie’s way. “Maybe a fresh pair of eyes would be helpful, anyway.”

“What, do I not have eyes?” Willam glares at Katya from the doorway.

“You do,” Katya sighs, “But you also have emails to answer and posters to collect from the print shop.”

Violet stifles a laugh and Willam mutters under her breath as she leaves the room.

Half an hour later, paint colors still haven’t been chosen and Violet is in the middle of explaining burlesque to Trixie.

“I mean, American burlesque is really an offshoot of Victorian burlesque, which was largely intended to mock theatrical and musical conventions of the time. But burlesque as we know it now was really only introduced in the early 1900s. They transitioned from the original singing and dancing to, well, stripping. And by the late 1930s burlesque shows were a lot closer to what they are today, a handful of striptease performers, maybe a comic or two, and a master of ceremonies.”

“But,” Violet frowns, “burlesque kind of died down for a while because of Prohibition era laws, a lot of the attitude, the freedom around burlesque back then was owed to the flow of alcohol. When the alcohol stopped, it was kind of a crippling blow. By the early 1940s it was effectively over with in New York City, and it clung on in some places but by the 1970s it was pretty much done with. Nudity wasn’t really taboo anymore, you know? If people wanted to see nudity they could just watch a movie.”

Trixie is entirely absorbed in Violet’s storytelling, leaning forward with her elbow on the arm of her chair, her chin on her palm. “That’s fascinating. I didn’t know it went away, that’s so sad. When did it start up again?”

“Not until fairly recently, actually. In the early 1990s it had somewhat of a cult following and the reemergence sprang from there.”

“Is it technically… like, stripping itself is sex work. What I do, that’s sex work --” Trixie looks nervous to ask the question, but Katya can tell Violet knows what she wants to ask.

“What you do is sex work, yes. I don’t really consider burlesque performing sex work, no,” Violet shakes their head. Trixie looks relieved that Violet knew what she wanted to ask. “Most people don’t. It isn’t really for sexual gratification purposes as much as it’s for entertainment purposes -- and burlesque performers don’t do private dances or have to touch the audience members at all. That’s not what people pay for when they go to burlesque shows.”

“As of right now, I am still a sex worker -- I only do burlesque performances part time,” they clarify, “most performers do, but I’m also occasionally in videos and I strip regularly at the Marxxx in LA.”

“You’re in videos?” Trixie perks up, “What kind do you do? I’m mostly girl-on-girl myself, but I have done some… pretty gruesome BDSM scenes.”

“Uh, well,” Violet shoots Katya a look and Katya just shrugs. “I’m mostly on the -- Third Wave prides itself on being inclusive and female-friendly. Obviously men watch our porn, too, but the target audience isn’t the type of man that likes overacting or violent scenes. Our scenes are catered more toward women, including trans women, and also toward non-binary people.”

Trixie nods slowly, looking cautiously between Katya and Violet as if she’s worried they’re going to drop a bomb on her.

“I’m non-binary -- assigned male at birth. I occasionally do trans-friendly scenes.” Katya watches as Violet holds their breath, unsure how Trixie is going to react. Some new people take a while to warm up to Violet’s identity -- a big reason that they keep love interests at an arm’s length.

“Right on,” Trixie smiles. “It’s awesome that Third Wave is inclusive.” She looks up at Katya, blue eyes shining, and it’s clear she’s waiting for a reaction of some kind.

Katya just shrugs, looking down to fiddle with the paint samples. “It isn’t something I try to make a big deal of, really.”

“But --” Violet begins, but Katya slaps the paint samples against the desk lightly, cutting them off.

“Anyway, are we ready to decide on paint colors now? We discussed a burgundy for the club itself, since we’re going with the black velvet curtains.”

“With the gold trim?” Violet leans in and picks up another deck of paint samples.

“Yeah, the gold trim. I tried to have them rushed but they won’t be ready until the twentieth,” Katya mutters as she sifts through the red section of the deck in her hands.

“The opening is the twenty-fourth,” Violet cries, paint samples thumping to the desk in their distress. “Is that soon enough? Do I have to go on without curtains?”

Katya reaches across the desk and grabs one of Violet’s hands where they’re flinging around as she talks. “It’s soon enough, I have their word that they’ll be fully installed and functional by the morning of the twenty-third. Your silks will be up, too.”

Violet leans back in their chair, “Good.”

“Silks?” Trixie asks quietly, thoroughly confused.

“Aerial silks,” Violet clarifies. They tilt their head slightly, “Didn’t you see me at the expo?”

Trixie shakes her head, “No, I was wrapped up at my booth… I wanted to go, and a few of the other girls wanted to go, too, but…”

“Ed wouldn’t let you,” Katya guesses, crossing her arms. Trixie nods. “That’s so typical of him, he can’t even stand to let his employees watch a performance because it was one of _my_ performers. He -- God,” Katya groans, propping her elbows against her desk and holding her head in her hands. “Sorry, he gets on every last one of my nerves.”

A silence falls over the room as Katya tries to steady her breathing. She knows she shouldn’t let herself get wound up so easily, that it exhausts the people around her just as easily as it exhausts her. But at this point Ed’s very existence pushes every one of Katya’s buttons, and sometimes she can’t help herself, as much as she’d like to.

“Um,” Trixie says quietly. “I think that third red on the sample card under your right elbow is nice.”

Katya slowly picks her head up and looks down at where her bare elbow is resting on the sample card. Violet suppresses a snicker at Trixie’s choice of an icebreaker and Katya smiles genuinely.

“Show Stopper. What a fitting color name,” Katya remarks. When she peeks up from the card, Trixie is beaming at her proudly.

“I think that’s the perfect color,” Violet pipes up. They turns to Trixie abruptly, as if something just struck them. “Have you really never heard of aerial silks before?”

Trixie is caught off-guard and stares at them for a second. “Well, I’d heard of them, but I just… had a very different kind of silks in mind at first.”

Katya and Violet look at each other, then back at Trixie, both of them blinking slowly.

Her cheeks flush, clearly embarrassed at the misunderstanding. “Silk bondage ties.”

There’s another beat before Violet starts to laugh, leaning forward and wrapping one arm around their stomach. Their other arm reaches out and grabs onto Trixie’s forearm and she begins to giggle a bit, too.

“Am I interrupting something?” Katya looks up to where Adore has pushed the door open.

Her arms are crossed over her chest, and she looks less than thrilled with the scene in front of her. Katya has no idea what her problem is, but she’s praying to any god that might exist for Adore to keep things civil. She’s sending vibes into the universe begging for Karma to be on her side today, for Adore to not notice that Trixie is wearing her boots -- or at least for her not to say anything if she does.

“We’re just finishing up, actually,” Katya looks away from Adore, back to where Violet and Trixie are returning to their own spaces. “So that’s the color, then?”

“Absolutely,” Violet grins at Trixie.

Katya could swear Trixie’s cheeks are slightly flushed, but she doesn’t have much time to ruminate on it before Adore is marching across the room toward her desk.

She squeezes into the small space between Violet’s knees and the desk, hopping up to sit with her back to Katya.

“Vi, baby,” she squeals gleefully, “I’ve missed your face so much!”

“We literally facetimed when I was in the airport this morning,” Violet raises an eyebrow.

Adore’s head tilts backward, and Katya can’t see it but she’s sure Adore is pouting and rolling her eyes.

“You know what I meant,” she whines. “Everything has to be so literal with you.”

Violet snorts, slapping lightly at Adore’s knee where it’s bumping against theirs. “You’re such a fucking brat.”

“Adore,” Katya says with a deep exhale, “As marvelous as it is, I’d really prefer your ass not be in my face.”

Adore looks over her shoulder, pout still in tact before sighing and hopping off the desk. “Fine, party pooper.” She scans the office once before shrugging and nudging Violet over, squishing into the chair next to her.

Katya nearly says something about the impossible closeness, nearly brings up that there’s another chair less than ten feet away, but then she notices Adore’s eyes settle on Trixie’s feet and her heart starts to thump unevenly.

_Don’t say it don’t say it don’t say it don’t --_

“Cute boots,” she says, a saccharine smile spreading across her lips. She glances over at Katya with a knowing look and Katya nearly huffs a sigh of relief.

If she didn’t know Adore as well as she does, she’d never know that there’s anything but sincerity in her tone. Katya isn’t entirely sure why Adore seems to dislike Trixie so much, but there are a lot of things about Adore that remain a mystery to her.

Trixie remains silent for the rest of the meeting, standing to help Katya carry the binders she’s struggling with back to the shelf. There’s no further incident between her and Adore, who leaves the same moment that Violet does, with a syrupy sweet disposition that Katya knows means she’s bound to get an earful later.

She almost wishes she could read minds, so she knows exactly what Adore’s problem is, but then she realizes she really doesn’t want to know all of someone else’s thoughts. She has enough of a problem controlling her own, most of the time.

“So,” Trixie murmurs as she hands Katya binders to reshelve, “what’s on your agenda for the rest of the day? I can find somewhere else to be if I’m going to be in your way, for other meetings or whatever.”

Katya shrugs, takes a moment to look at her watch. “I think I’m done for the day, actually. Violet’s usually a lot pickier than that so I had Willam block me off for quite a decent chunk of time. It’s nearly four-thirty anyway, that’s close enough.”

She takes the last binder and smiles at Trixie, “Celeste is usually finished by around two. Just let me straighten up my desk and then we’ll go home, yeah?”

Trixie smiles and gives a slight nod.

The silence that stretches between them while Katya shuffles papers and tucks them away is comfortable. And Katya knows they’ve only known each other a few days, collectively, but she could swear it feels familiar as well.

“You ready to get going?” She asks as she hooks her purse over her arm and fishes out her keys.

“I was born ready,” Trixie shoots Katya a corny thumbs-up and Katya laughs with a shake of her head.

“You were born yesterday,” Willam quips from behind her desk.

Trixie snorts and Katya tries to quell the fondness growing in her chest.

“Maybe, but I’ve been ready since then! Have a good night, Willam. It was nice to get to know you a little better.” Her smile is soft and sincere as they stop in front of the elevator.

The ride home is mostly silent, Katya afraid to speak lest her words make Trixie’s quiet humming along to Fleetwood Mac stop. When they’re about to turn onto Katya’s street Katya remembers something Trixie mentioned yesterday while they were at the grocery store.

“You’re vegetarian, right?”

“Yeah,” she confirms, “I am, but you don’t have to like cater to me or whatever, I can eat pretty much --”

“Okay, first of all, I’m not catering to you specifically. I hardly ever eat meat myself, I was just thinking about the black bean burgers I had planned on for dinner and I realized I hadn’t ever actually checked,” Katya shrugs. “That you’re a vegetarian, I mean. Like, I saw you walk past the meat in the grocery store and kind of figured but we never had an explicit discussion about the topic.”

“Okay,” Trixie giggles. “You know you don’t need to explain yourself to me so much all the time, right? I trust you enough to answer questions without needing to know the reason you’re asking.”

Of course Katya can’t shut up. She never could. Her anxiety leaves her completely trapped in her own mind or it forces words out of her mouth even when no words are needed.

“Sorry,” she murmurs sheepishly.

“No!” Trixie turns her body toward her as she pulls into the driveway and hits the button to open her garage door. “No, oh my God, I didn’t mean that it’s a bad thing. I think it’s nice that you want to explain everything to make me comfortable, just that if you’re ever wanting to ask me something I don’t need you to explain your intentions to me, because I trust that they’re good.”

Katya turns off the car and looks over at Trixie, “I’m really glad.”

“Me too,” Trixie whispers.

The two of them sit there like that for a moment, stillness surrounding them. Katya thinks she sees Trixie’s eyes flicker down to her mouth, but it’s probably just wishful thinking.

 _Shit._ She shouldn’t be wishing for that.

Her keys jingle in her hand as she turns away, reaching behind the seat with her other arm to grab her purse. She gets out of the car without waiting for Trixie, trusting that she’ll be along shortly. She hits the button for the garage door as she steps into her kitchen. She sets her purse on the counter and closes her eyes for a moment.

The passenger door closes and Katya can hear Trixie’s soft footfalls heading into the house, so she moves abruptly from where she’s standing.

“I’m going to change quick before I come back to make dinner,” she says over her shoulder. “You can watch tv or something if you want until dinner is ready, make yourself comfortable.”

She closes her bedroom door and leans back against it with a hand on her forehead.

“Get it _together_ , asshole,” she mutters to herself as she slips her feet out of her pumps.

When she emerges from her room, Trixie is sitting at the kitchen counter with her hands folded in front of her.

“I thought I’d see if there’s something I can do to help,” she explains, hopping down from the stool. “I’m a moderately competent cook. I didn’t even explode my apartment making a turkey for Brock on Thanksgiving.”

Katya chuckles and starts pulling ingredients out, “A regular Gordon Ramsay.”

“Maybe more Rachel Ray,” she snorts as she rolls up her sleeves to her elbows.

“You can work on the sweet potatoes, if you wouldn’t mind?”

Trixie smirks, “Spud specialist, at your service.”

“Are sweet potatoes considered spuds?” Katya’s eyebrows draw together in thought.

“You ruined a perfectly good joke,” Trixie sighs dramatically.

“Was that what you consider a good joke?” Katya huffs a short laugh.

“Oh, because your Nickelback joke earlier was peak comedy?”

“It sure was,” Katya agrees, nodding emphatically. “There is _nothing_ better than acting like a clueless old woman to send you girls into shock.”

Trixie sets the now washed sweet potatoes on the counter and shuts the water off, drying her hands on a towel. “Are you sure it’s just acting?”

“Hey,” Katya cries at looks up at Trixie. She’s holding back laughter and she looks so pleased with herself that Katya can’t help but crack up, sending Trixie into a fit of laughter.

With Trixie’s help, dinner is cooked and served, both of them eating at the counter. Katya clears the plates while Trixie curls up at one end of the couch with the remote in hand.

“Katya, why do you have twenty episodes of Extreme Couponing recorded?”

Katya can feel her cheeks turning pink as she sits on the opposite end of the couch, pulling a throw over her sweatpants-clad legs. “Why does a duck quack, Trixie? It’s in their nature.”

“Extreme Couponing is in your nature?” She snickers.

“No,” Katya corrects, “but binge watching Extreme Couponing after a long day at work certainly is.”

Trixie clicks on an episode and turns the volume up, setting the remote down on her thigh.

“We don’t have to watch this.” Katya pulls the blanket up higher to cover her arms and sinks further into the couch.

“I want to,” Trixie waves a hand dismissively. “You like it, I should at least give it a chance.”

The woman on the tv is buying a ridiculous number of boxed cake mixes and Katya snorts, “She must be planning one hell of a party.”

“Hey,” Trixie says like she’s just remembered something, “you’re having a huge event opening night for Violet’s club, right?”

“Yeah,” Katya nods slowly, not sure where this conversation is headed.

“Do you think I might be able to come? I don’t want to, like, invite myself or anything but I’ve heard nothing but wonderful things about all the people you work with and --”

“Trixie,” Katya cuts off her babbling, “remember what you said in the car about not having to explain the reason behind every question?”

She smiles sheepishly.

“I think it’s a great idea for you to come for opening night. Everyone will be glad to meet you.”

Trixie beams at her, “Great! Oh, that’s so exciting, I’ve always wanted to go to LA and to be there with so many great people will be amazing. It’s the twenty-fourth, right?”

Katya confirms with a nod.

“Nice! What good timing, it lines right up with my twenty-first,” she giggles.

“Your birthday is the twenty-fourth?” Katya sits up and the blanket falls off her shoulders.

“The day before, actually,” she says nonchalantly, “but I’ve waited twenty-one years for a legal drink, I think I can handle waiting another day.”

Katya laughs along with her, waiting until her attention settles back on the tv before she texts Violet and Willam.

 

**To: Vi & Willam**

Trixie’s birthday is Aug. 23rd. I think it would be a good idea to throw her a party, that way we can introduce her to the rest of the girls before the opening night. Thoughts?

 

**From: Vi**

like, at the club? i think that would be dope

 

**From: Willam**

You know I’m always down for a party babes

 

**To: Vi & Willam**

Cool. We’ll talk more about it later?

 

**From: Willam**

I’ll start looking for bakeries in LA tomorrow.

 

**From: Vi**

sure!

 

Katya sets her phone back on the coffee table and accidentally knocks a book off the edge.

“Shit,” she mutters, leaning forward to pick it up off of the rug.

“‘Renting Lacy’? What’s that about?” Trixie hits the pause button on the remote and swivels on the couch to face Katya.

“Um,” Katya places it back on the table, “it’s about victims of child sex trafficking.”

“Jesus,” Trixie says quietly. “Heavy stuff.”

“Yeah,” Katya agrees. “If we want to change anything it’s important for us to fully understand all sides of sex work, though, even the unsavory ones.”

There’s a beat of silence before Katya amends her statement, “Especially the unsavory ones.”

“I get it,” Trixie moves the remote to the couch cushion between them, pulling her knees closer to her chest. “What kind of stuff do you do with your advocacy group?”

“It isn’t just my group,” Katya corrects. “There are a lot of really important people involved who helped me get things up and running. They’re the ones doing most of the leg work, really. They go to meetings with non-profits who work to stop sex trafficking, they call Congress and ask them to protect sex workers,” she smiles fondly, “sometimes they even show up at Senators offices and demand to speak with them.”

“They sound amazing,” Trixie says encouragingly.

“I mostly help with the -- well, most of what I do actually is help people like you,” she meets Trixie’s gaze. “I try my hardest to get as many sex workers out of as many bad situations as possible.”

Trixie stares at her for a long moment, scanning her face for something.

“I know last time you said that you’ve made this your life’s work because you want to help people,” she wraps her arms around her knees, “and I believe that. But I can’t help but think that there has to have been some specific moment that made you want to help. Something more personal than just knowing that strangers are suffering.”

Katya’s eyes water slightly without her consent. She takes a deep breath, holding Trixie’s gaze. It’s strange how well Trixie already seems to know her, how intuitively she can sense that something deeper is going on.

Katya is kind and compassionate, her heart is full of love, but she doesn’t trust easily, she doesn’t let her guard down. She’s met plenty of people in her lifetime and never wanted to share. She doesn’t know how this pretty blonde Barbie with a smile like sunshine has crashed into her life and changed her mind about trusting just any stranger.

She assumes it’s probably because Trixie has never felt like just a stranger.

Katya takes another deep breath before she begins. “I was sixteen when my parents caught me with my first girlfriend. They told me my options were to go to conversion therapy, or to get out of their house. I was terrified either way, but… I left. I needed a place to stay, I needed to buy my own food, my own clothes. I needed a job. But not many places where I lived were hiring sixteen year olds, and I was desperate. I was living on the streets when I met another girl my age, Lisa.” She can feel a fond smile settle on her face.

“She became my best friend instantly, we just clicked -- I hadn’t ever had that kind of connection before, and I haven’t really had anything similar since.”

 _Besides you,_ her brain tacks on.

“One day she introduced me to this guy, David, who was a couple years older than us, and he was talking about this ‘easy way to get money.’ We were young and naive and didn’t know how incredibly wrong he was,” she shakes her head. “We agreed to let him arrange out-calls in exchange for what he originally said was twenty percent of the profit. And we did well. We were two attractive girls who were old enough to not look obviously underage. Eventually we had enough for a one bedroom.”

Katya begins picking at the lint on the blanket. “We didn’t have much furniture, just a couple mattresses we put on the floor in the bedroom and a couch in the living room. But it was ours, you know? We had a home.”

Trixie shifts and scoots down so her shoulder is pressing into the back of the couch, her head resting against the top.

“But then David started scheduling in-calls. I was against it from the beginning. We had one bedroom that we _shared_ , and it’s not like our apartment was anything to look at. Lisa told me that she was going to take the in-calls anyway, and after a few weeks she convinced me to take them, too.”

Katya had been trying to avoid crying, but her chest is getting tight in a familiar and unpleasant way.

“A week later I was on an out-call, and she had an in-call at the same time. And when I came home, she was dead. I don’t know exactly what happened, because she obviously couldn’t tell me and David didn’t have any real details about the monster who was the last person to see her alive.”

Tears silently spill down Katya’s cheeks, “The police were no help, obviously. Half of the force knew Lisa and me because they were clients, but they still did nothing. And David -- well, if he cared at all he was very bad at showing it. I was terrified to keep working, but what choice did I really have? Luckily --” she huffs an incredulous laugh, “Sorry, as if anything about that situation was lucky. Anyway, by that time I was almost eighteen. I had an out-call who was in the porn industry and he told me that I could be making more money in a safer environment, so I jumped at the opportunity. I told David I was done and I never looked bad.”

“I started making VHS porn, originally. Which, you can laugh at,” Katya shrugs, “the industry was different back then. Everything was fine, then, I was working enough to pay my bills and I was safe. But when I was twenty-two, my out-call’s son took over his business for him. You might know where this is going.”

Trixie scrunches her eyebrows together. “I don’t, actually.”

“His son is Ed.”

Trixie’s eyebrows shoot up, “Really?”

“Yup,” Katya nods, “Ed took over the family business. And when he came in, he began putting content online. Starting with the things the company already owned, and initially without our knowledge.”

“Scumbag,” Trixie mutters under her breath.

“I put up with it, though. He seemed harmless enough. A bit of a dolt at times, but I had dealt with enough stupid men to handle him. That is, until he went after Candy.”

“Candy was a sweetheart, and a gorgeous girl, but for some reason Ed felt it necessary to harass her about her weight. He kept saying that he hired a size six, not a size twelve -- she wasn’t even a size twelve, not like it fucking matters anyway. And he was terrible to her all the time, constantly berating her. Eventually I had enough, I went into his office once everyone had gone home and I told him off. I was twenty-five at the time, and Candy was only nineteen. I felt like it was my job to protect her, or at least defend her.”

Trixie smiles softly, “So you’ve always liked protecting people.”

Katya turns her head, staring out the window behind the couch. “I guess you could say that, sure. But Ed didn’t take too kindly to me telling him he was being an asshole. And he responded by being an even bigger asshole.”

Trixie gasps softly, “He didn’t.”

“He did,” Katya nods, a fresh set of tears rolling down her cheeks. “He assaulted me. When I got home that day, I decided I was never going to work for him again. Assault does something to you, it can make you reevaluate your entire perspective on life. I thought back to Lisa, how I hadn’t been able to protect her, and I thought about Candy, how protecting her backfired so badly, and I knew there had to be something, anything I could do to actually protect sex workers.”

“I had no idea how to leave what Ed had rebranded as Diabolical Digital, though. Only one person ever had, at that point. I tracked her down and begged her to help me, and she was understandably hesitant at first, but she agreed when I told her my plans to spend my life trying to effect change and make sex work safer. It was through her I found Michelle and Henry, two of the lawyers on my advocacy team.”

“Ru helped get me back on my feet after everything, and I owe her immensely even though she swears she didn’t do anything of note,” Katya laughs softly.

“I fucking hate Ed,” Trixie blurts. Katya shifts her gaze from the window and notices Trixie’s hands are shaking in her lap.

“I’m so sorry he did that to you, I’m so sorry he’s such a fucking monster,” her blue eyes are swimming in unspilled tears. “I hate him so much, I don’t want to work for him. I never really wanted to work for him, but I was desperate and now I’m stuck under his thumb.”

“Hey,” Katya says gently, scooting across the distance to take both of Trixie’s hands. “If you don’t want to work for him anymore, I’m going to find a way to get you out of there. We can talk to Henry and Michelle first thing tomorrow.”

A tear falls from Trixie’s eye and Katya gives her hands a light squeeze.

“If you don’t want to work for him anymore, I promise you, you’ll never have to set foot in that place again.”

“Really?” Trixie’s eyes are still watery, but Katya can see the spark of hope behind them.

“Really.”

* * *

It’s sobering, the view of Trixie waiting in the conference room across from the lawyers. Katya’d been so caught up in the emotion of it all that she hadn’t put much thought into the legal end of things, which is wholly unlike her. She forms bonds with all of the girls she helps, but none of them have had a hold on her like Trixie does.

She can try to deny it all she wants to other people, she can tell Adore and Willam that the gifts don’t mean anything, but she knows the truth.

She knows she’s fucked.

It’s not like she’s going to _act_ on her feelings, she’s not stupid and she knows it wouldn’t be fair to Trixie. The last thing Katya wants is for Trixie to think that Katya is expecting something in return for her decency – it’s hardly like Katya doesn’t have the funds to be kind to one person. But it doesn’t matter to her how much she has to spend to make Trixie feel at home, she’s happy to do it.

“If there’s a clause in your contract that states Diabolical would pay for testing and you have proof they didn’t, they’re very likely to offer a decently sized settlement,” one of the lawyers, Henry, is informing Trixie when Katya pushes through the door.

“That would be good, a decent cushion for me until I find a new job,” Trixie nods.

Katya rounds the table and seats herself in a rolling chair next to Trixie. Trixie shifts closer to her almost imperceptibly, a small enough movement that Katya’s sure it can’t mean anything. She probably hadn’t even noticed she did it.

“Absolutely,” Henry smiles while scribbling something in his padfolio.

“Maybe even enough for me to get an apartment somewhere. Get out of your hair.” She nudges Katya gently with her elbow.

Katya tries to smile but the air has been sucked out of her lungs and she’s not sure if the expression makes it across her face. Trixie’s grinning and turning back to Henry and Michelle, so Katya’s guessing it had managed to be somewhat convincing.

“You don’t need to worry about an apartment unless you want more privacy, or something. I have plenty of room and I have absolutely no problem with you putting whatever hypothetical settlement you get into savings,” Katya says, eyes trained on the papers she’s sifting through. She’s afraid if she looks Trixie in the eye she might break down and ask her to stay flat out.

“Whatever the case, we’ll need to see a copy of your actual contract before we’re sure that there isn’t some loophole they can weasel their way out of,” Michelle frowns. “They’re fond of those.”

“Oh,” Trixie says quietly. Katya looks up to see her staring down at her own lap.

“Is that a problem, Miss Mattel?” Henry is closing his briefcase as he asks the question.

“It’s just that the copy that I had of the contract is back in the apartment with Brock -- well, it was. God only knows what he’s done to that place since I left,” Trixie shakes her head minutely, “I think it’s probably safer for me at this point to go to Diabolical and try to see if I can get Ed’s secretary Wendy to slip me a copy. She hates Ed anyway, so it shouldn’t be hard.”

“Absolutely not,” Katya shuts her folder with a bit more intensity than is necessary. “You don’t ever have to set foot in that place again, I promised you that last night.”

“Katya, it’s okay,” Trixie turns to face her with a serious expression. “If we need the contract then I have to go get it. I probably won’t even have to deal with Ed, and besides, there’s always a bunch of people in the office. What could he possibly do to me with that many witnesses?”

“We’re never going to find out,” Katya states resolutely. She stands up from her seat and picks up her folders, beginning the trek to her office to dump them on her desk.

Trixie scrambles out of the conference room behind her, hot on her heels. “What do you mean ‘we’re never going to find out’?” Katya grabs her blazer from where it’s hanging on the back of her chair, sliding it on and buttoning the single button over her crisp white shirt.

“What are you doing?”

She grabs her keys from the top drawer of her desk and her purse from the hook near the door as she walks out into the hallway.

“Katya!” Trixie yells, still following behind her. “Will you answer me? What the fuck is going on?”

The entire office has come to a standstill, everyone stopping to stare at the scene in the foyer. Trixie has been shouting since Katya left the conference room and Katya hates the amount of attention drawn to them right now. She clenches her jaw, taking a deep breath before spinning around to face Trixie.

“I’m going to Diabolical. Alone. You’re going to stay here and wait with Willam and Tatianna,” she gives Willam a stern look, “and I’ll be back with a copy of your contract.”

Trixie’s eyes widen and her face falls. “Katya, you can’t just march into Diabolical! Especially not by yourself. Ed has everyone there convinced that you’re crazy.”

Katya smirks, a short humorless laugh before she turns to walk out the front door.

“Maybe I am.”

Katya takes as many side roads as possible to get to the Diabolical offices. She’s too anxious to let herself sit at red lights and stew in her own apprehension of what she’s about to do.

There’s a red light she can’t avoid just a block away from the building where the Diabolical offices are, and she takes the opportunity to switch her incessantly ringing phone on silent.

The screen informs her that she has 7 missed calls and just as many voicemails from Trixie.

She tucks her phone back into her purse just as the light turns green, and she guns it for the last stretch of driving. She parks haphazardly in front of the building and hops out of the car.

There’s a desk in the lobby of the building where Katya guesses there’s supposed to be a receptionist, or a security guard, but neither are present so Katya heads to the elevators with no difficulty at all. She’d been expecting to at least have to smooth talk her way past a guard, but she’s somewhat grateful that she hadn’t been stopped.

She’s too anxious and angry to be very rational, which she notices in the elevator on the way to the third floor might be an issue. If she’s going to try to get a copy of a contract from Ed’s secretary, she’s going to have to calm down. She needs to collect herself to make a compelling argument.

But when the elevator doors open and Ed is standing by what she assumes to be Wendy’s desk, the small amount of composure she’d gathered in the elevator flies out the window.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Things going badly over at your place, you needed to come see how to run a real business?”

Katya snorts, “Oh that is fucking rich coming from someone who nearly filed for bankruptcy three months ago.”

Ed stands up straighter, composure slipping for half a second. “How do you even know about that? Got your little spies peeking in still? Just can’t let it rest, can you?”

“I’ll let it rest when you go out of business,” Katya squints at him.

“Yeah, whatever. What do you want, Kat?”

Katya takes a few steps across the small lobby, squaring her shoulders. “I think you have a pretty good idea what I want, Ed.”

A crooked smirk plays on his features, “Maybe I do. But why don’t you spell it out for me, sweetheart?”

It takes everything in her to not let her annoyance at his patronizing tone show on her face, but she refuses to let him know he’s getting to her.

“Let Trixie out of her contract.”

Ed laughs and Katya wants to punch that smug look right off of his face. “Wait, let me think for a second. No,” he shrugs, “I don’t think I will.”

With that he turns around and walks into his office, leaving Katya standing in the lobby with Wendy staring at her. She walks over to her desk, setting her purse down next to the computer, and slides a fifty dollar bill across the surface.

“If you can make a copy of Trixie’s contract appear in my bag in the next five minutes, there’s another hundred in it for you.”

Wendy looks behind her to make sure Ed isn’t watching before she gives Katya a short nod.

“Are you gonna come fight for her or not?” Ed calls from his office. “Or have you lost your stamina?”

Katya squeezes her hands into fists and then relaxes them, trying to relieve a bit of the tension in her body before she faces Ed in truly close quarters. She’d very much like to hit him (with her fists or her car, the options are delightful) but she knows that for Trixie’s sake, she can’t.

“Maybe you just don’t care about this one as much. But that’s fair, blonde bimbos aren’t rating so well lately. You’d know all about that, though.”

“God,” Katya says incredulously as she steps into his office, “what is your problem? Like, I’m genuinely curious. What the fuck happened to you that made you into such a terrible fucking person?”

“Yeah, like you’re a fucking saint,” Ed glares at her. “You can pretend all you want, but at the end of the day you’re just like the rest of us.”

Katya shakes her head, glaring right back at him, “I am _nothing_ like you, and I never will be.”

Ed shrugs nonchalantly. “You’re right. You won’t be, because unlike me, you won’t have Trixie Mattel under contract.”

She can’t help that her hands ball into fists at her sides, as much as she wishes she could.

“Oh, you’re mad about that, are you?” Ed laughs, taking a step toward her. “Too bad there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“You know what, Edwin? You’re fucking scum. You get off on talking down to women, on treating them badly, don’t you? You’re probably gonna go home to the sad little house where you live alone, because no woman in their right mind would stay with you, and eat a fucking tv dinner on the couch and jerk off to your sad little memories of all the times you treated me, and every other woman you’ve ever known, like shit. Does that make you happy, Eddie? Does it?” She takes a step toward him, neither one of them is going to back down now.

“Does it make you happy to jack off in the dark and come into a sock and fall asleep with your sad dick still hanging out of your pants and nothing but the light of the tv to keep you company? You’re fucking scum. The worst kind of person imaginable. I might not end up with Trixie Mattel under contract, but she sure as hell won’t be under yours anymore. And I’m going to keep fighting for every single person who is unfortunate enough to fall under your control.”

Katya spins around to walk away, but Ed’s hand grabs her upper arm roughly.

“Don’t you fucking walk away from me, you bitch.” He yanks her back so her shoulders are flush against his chest. “Who the fuck do you think you are, to talk to me like that?”

His arms wind around her waist and her heart hammers unevenly. She struggles in his arms as his fingers try to find their way past the buttons of her shirt.

She takes a deep breath before lifting her foot as high as she can, slamming her stiletto into his foot.

“Jesus,” he cries, his grasp weakening in his shock. It’s just enough for Katya to slip away and out of his office.

She stops at Wendy’s desk for only a moment, another nod from Wendy letting her know that the contract is in her purse. She drops the promised hundred dollars next to the computer and picks up her bag. Someone she assumes is a Diabolical employee is getting out of the elevator and she runs to catch it just as the door is closing.

Katya hasn’t breathed properly since she left her office, and she doesn’t breathe again until she steps into her office again, contract held tightly in her hand.

“Katya,” Trixie cries, “Don’t ever do that again! Don’t ever leave me like that again, I was so scared, you weren’t answering your phone and I didn’t know if you were okay or not.” She wraps her arms around Katya aimlessly, jostling the spot Ed had grabbed on her arm.

She flinches slightly before patting Trixie’s back twice.

“Did you just wince?” Willam asks from her spot halfway between her desk and where Katya and Trixie are standing. “Are you okay? I swear to God if he hurt you I’ll -- well, I don’t know what I’ll do but it won’t be very nice.”

Trixie backs up a little, frowning. “Did he hurt you?”

“I -- well.” Katya doesn’t want to alarm them, but she can’t lie to them either. “He tried to hurt me, but all he got away with was grabbing my arm too hard. I’m fine.”

Katya could swear she saw tears forming in Trixie’s eyes before she hugs her again, this time being careful to slide her arms under Katya’s and around her waist.

“I’m so sorry he did that to you,” she mumbles into Katya’s shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Katya gently rests a hand on the back of Trixie’s head. “It isn’t your fault. None of this is.”

They stand there in silence for a few more moments, Katya’s heart rate finally returning to its normal state.

“Thank you,” Trixie says, so quietly Katya’s sure that no one else could hear it.

“Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book mentioned, Renting Lacy, is a real book and it's heartbreaking but I highly recommend it if you're interested in learning how to help stop child sex trafficking. It's available from a variety of sources, but I purchased my copy through Shared Hope International, an organization that helps to prevent sex trafficking, restore the victims, and bring justice to them.  
> https://sharedhope.org/product/renting-lacy/


	3. got my fingers laced together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You booked me a first class ticket? I’ve never flown first class!” Trixie is nearly bouncing in her seat on the way to the airport. “I’ve barely flown at all, honestly. First class!”  
> “Like I said, airline miles,” Katya grins at Trixie. It wasn’t true -- she hadn’t paid for Trixie’s ticket with airline miles, she had paid with her debit card, but what Trixie didn’t know couldn’t make her feel bad. Or something like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Pride!! 
> 
> This chapter is pretty hefty and there's smut, so if you're not interested in reading sex... you kinda picked the wrong fic, honestly. 
> 
> Once again a huge thank you to ourforgottenboleros over on tumblr for being my second set of eyes after I pulled an all-nighter working on this bad boy. Sorry this took so long to get to you guys, I hope the wait was worth it!
> 
> (as always, you can find me on tumblr at adoredykelano if that tickles your fancy)

“After weeks of them dragging their feet, we’ve been in talks with Diabolical all morning,” Henry murmurs as he shuffles through a stack of paperwork, “And we have an offer for a severance package. Because of the clause for testing, they clearly don’t want this to make a big scene.”

Trixie laces her fingers together on the tabletop, legs crossed and her foot bouncing anxiously under the table. “What’s their offer?”

“Your rate of pay was five hundred for a standard scene and seven fifty for BDSM,” he circles a few numbers as he continues shifting papers around, “So they’d base their offer around that, assuming you’d have three standard scenes and two BDSM scenes per month.” 

“Three thousand? That’s it?” Katya says from her seat at the end of the table. “That’s insulting.”

Michelle shakes her head, “Three thousand is what they were going to offer. But since we pulled the testing clause, they want to settle for the cost of the tests.”

“I gave you the bills, right?” Trixie shifts in her seat, thumbs twiddling.

“Yes, we’ve got them here,” Henry waves a stack of papers. “If you hadn’t had insurance, it would’ve been fifty-two. But insurance bumped your out-of-pocket cost down, so they’re offering you twenty-six.”

Katya scoffs, “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“We’re obligated to bring you the settlement offer, but you don’t have to --”

“I’ll take it.” Trixie nods before Michelle has finished talking.

Three sets of eyes turn to stare at her.

“Trixie, that is an absolutely  _ insulting _ offer.” Katya blinks at her slowly, stunned by her enthusiasm. “You deserve at least two times that, and that’s being conservative.”

“I don’t care,” she shrugs. “I want out of there. The things he’s… I want out. Twenty-six is more than enough for a plane ticket back to Wisconsin.”

“Back to -- Trixie, you hated Wisconsin. You don’t have to go back there, we can get you more,” Katya reaches across the table, her hand resting on top of Trixie’s.

Trixie pulls away and crosses her arms over her chest. “It’s fine. Let it go, Katya.”

“Trixie --”

“I said let it go!” Trixie has been avoiding eye contact until this moment, and Katya’s breath catches when their eyes meet. There’s an anger, sure, but beneath Katya can see sadness. She can see fear.

“Okay,” she says quietly. “Alright. Just, please don’t go back to Wisconsin.”

Katya can see Michelle quirking a brow out of the corner of her eye, prays that Trixie hasn’t noticed the suspicion in Michelle’s glance or the desperation in Katya’s tone. “You hated it there. You were miserable, you told me as much. There’s no rush, you can stay with me until you decide what you want to do.”

Trixie stares Katya down before dropping her gaze to the tabletop, a quick nod. “Okay.”

Henry slides paperwork across the table toward Trixie, who eagerly picks up a pen.

Katya stands and leaves the room quietly, closes the door to her office and locks it. She puts a hand to her forehead and gazes down at the carpet for a long moment. She’s not sure if she’s barricading everyone else out or herself in, but she needs to pull it together and this is the only space she’s safe to do that. No interruptions, no intrusions, just Katya and the silence she needs to sort through the ball of tangled Christmas lights that are her emotions.

“You better not be trying to make a move on me, Kat,” a voice says from behind her desk.

Katya’s head snaps up and her eyes focus on Willam, a pile of manila folders propped against her hip. “Jesus, I’m sorry. I didn’t even notice you weren’t at your desk on my way by.”

Willam shrugs and crouches down toward the drawer under the shelf to continue filing away the folders. No matter how flexible yoga has made her, Katya will never understand how Willam can crouch so steadily in heels and a skirt.

“Whoa, those are three inch heels, not five, are you alright?”

Willam glances up at Katya to make certain that Katya sees the performative eyeroll, “They’re four and a half inches and I’m fine.” She shuffles two folders around. “I’d ask you if you’re alright but from the way you stormed in here I already know you’re not,” she says dismissively.

Katya is taken aback, “I - I’m fine, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m absolutely fine.”

“Mhm,” Willam murmurs, sliding the drawer closed and standing so she’s eye-to-eye with Katya. “So you’re not at all shaken by Trixie saying she’s moving back to Wisconsin? You’re fine with that?”

“How do you even --” Katya glances at the phone on her desk and remembers the intercom option. She shakes her head, her mental etch-a-sketch clearing for more important thoughts. “Not that it’s any of your business, but the only reason I object at all to Trixie going back is because she absolutely hated Wisconsin.”

Willam stares Katya down, blinking soberly.

“What?” Katya snaps after a moment, breaking eye contact and moving past Willam to sit in her chair. She opens her laptop and logs in, just as Willam hops up to sit on her desk and pushes her laptop closed again.

“When are you gonna give this charade up? Maybe you’ve got Adore and Violet fooled, but I’ve been working as your assistant for years. I know you, inside and out, better than most other people on this planet could possibly know you,” she shakes her head.

Katya crosses her arms over her chest and one leg over the other, letting her foot bounce impatiently.

“I’ve run across the city on my way into work to pick up clothes from your house because you’d had a one-night stand with your ex and were running late for a meeting the next morning. I scheduled an appointment with your gastroenterologist when you thought you had IBS. I’ve scraped your hungover ass off the floor of your bathroom more than once.”

“Okay,” Katya huffs, “You’ve helped me out with a lot of embarrassing situations, what’s your point?” 

“My point is that we’re not friends. That isn’t a word strong enough for the bond we’ve made over the course of our working relationship, because it isn’t just a working relationship. I know you, your habits, the good and the bad and the embarrassing. And I know that you like Trixie.”

There’s a long silence. Katya’s teeth are working her lower lip and she’s holding her breath. 

She wants to tell Willam she’s wrong, that she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. But she knows that Willam isn’t stupid, and if anyone knows when Katya is lying it’s the person in the world she’s closest to. 

“So what?” She says quietly into her lap. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing is going to happen, because nothing  _ can _ happen. I won’t take advantage of her like that. I won’t put her in that position. She’s been through enough in her life without me contributing any kind of negativity.”

“God, you’re so smart but you’re  _ unbelievably _ fucking dense sometimes.”

“I am not,” Katya glares at Willam defensively.

“Yeah, you are,” She says as she hops back off the desk. “I know that you think you know what’s right and what’s wrong, but you never even consider that not everything is so black and white.”

“But --”

“You’re not the morality police. And you’re not the only person in the equation, Kat. I don’t think it’s fair for you to be the only one making the decisions. Sometimes there are shades of grey. Fifty of them, or something like that.”

Katya sits in stunned silence as Willam exits the office without a glance back.

There’s a while where Katya can’t do anything but sit staring at the open door, but she eventually manages to shake it off and get back to work. Willam doesn’t know what she’s talking about. She can’t possibly know. 

Willam knows a lot about Katya, a lot that most people don’t. Katya can’t say that isn’t the truth, but Willam doesn’t know everything, even if she thinks she does.

There might not be anyone else who knows all the things Willam knows, even if there are very few people who have known her longer. But Trixie knows the intimate details of Katya’s past.

Trixie is the first person to know everything about Katya’s story, the first person she’s ever trusted with that part of herself. She doesn’t know why she felt like she could, and if she can’t understand it, there’s no way that Willam will.

Katya can’t risk the friendship she has with Trixie, she won’t. That friendship is more important than whatever other feelings Katya might have. It’s more genuine than anything Katya has had in a very long time.

She doesn’t even realize she’s staring into space until she hears a throat clear.

“Are you going to invite me in, or are you just going to keep staring right through me?”

“Courtney?” Katya stands abruptly, her chair rolling away from behind her. “Uh, come in! Sorry, I don’t know what my problem is, guess I was zoning out.”

Courtney saunters into Katya’s office and pushes the door closed. She takes a seat on the couch pushed up against one of the walls, patting the cushion beside her.

“Why don’t you come join me?” She crosses her legs, the fringe at the hem of her dress swinging.

“Why don’t I stay over here until you tell me what brings you in today,” Katya counters. She leans back against the shelves.

Courtney tsks, shaking her head. “A girl can’t come visit a friend?”

Katya raises a brow, “Is that what you’d call us?”

“It’s what I just did call us, isn’t it?”

“Over the years I’ve learned that what you say doesn’t mean much, so forgive my skepticism,” Katya rolls her eyes, but walks over to sit on the opposite side of the couch anyway.

“Ouch, my feelings,” Courtney laughs.

“You still have those?”

“Pesky little things,” she shrugs, “I wouldn’t expect you to know, since you chased yours away with a broom years ago.”

Katya laughs shortly before adjusting the hem of her pencil skirt and sitting up straighter. “What do you need, Courtney?”

Courtney’s face falls at the shift in Katya’s tone. “I just wanted to get some lunch, maybe. Catch up a little. You haven’t been returning my texts since --”

There’s a knock on the door and then Trixie’s face pops into the office. “Oh! Sorry, I didn’t realize you were busy. Our lunch reservation is in twenty minutes, but I can have Willam reschedule if you’re…”

“No, no need to reschedule. Courtney was just leaving,” Katya walks over to her desk, opening the bottom drawer where she’d stashed her handbag this morning.

Trixie looks between Katya and Courtney. “She could… come with us if she wanted to? Willam made the reservation for three anyway but she bailed. Something about her husband’s dog?”

“Great!” Courtney stands up with a smirk on her face, crossing the room to Trixie and sticking out her hand. “I’m Courtney, Katya’s friend.”

“Trixie,” she gives a small nod as they shake hands.

Katya shoves her phone into her bag. “Lord help me,” she mutters under her breath before looking back up with a smile, “Wonderful, glad you’re acquainted. Are you ready to go, Trix?”

“Ready when you are,” Trixie gives Katya a warm smile and grabs her denim jacket off the hook on the back of Katya’s door, slipping it on.

The car ride to the restaurant is nearly silent save for the radio and Trixie’s soft humming from the backseat. Courtney had tried multiple times to start conversations about the current happenings of her life, but Katya wasn’t interested and Trixie, for all her midwestern politeness, couldn’t break the awkward tension hanging in the air. 

“Reservation for Zamolodchikova,” Katya offers a terse smile to the hostess, who picks up three menus and leads the way to a table on the restaurant’s back patio.

There’s small talk while they order, brief conversation about the weather and the merits of spinach salads versus kale. It isn’t until their food arrives that the conversation picks up.

“So, how do you two know each other?” Trixie asks, spearing a fingerling potato on her fork.

“Well --”

“It’s a wonderful story,” Courtney interrupts, glee evident on her face. “I was a barista at the Starbucks around the corner from her first house. She was a regular, came in every morning for a Grande Americano. After a few weeks of flirting, I finally worked up the courage to write my number on her cup.”

“Oh, so you guys -- you, like…” Trixie shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

“We dated! Yup! For basically an eternity,” Courtney laughs. “Could never get this one to settle down, though.”

“That isn’t entirely true,” Katya frowns, rolling her eyes. “I didn’t want to get married, but never settling down was a mutual decision based on the fact that  _ you  _ were afraid of commitment. I asked you to move in with me and you said no. That’s on you.”

“How long were you together?” Trixie is glancing between Katya on her right and Courtney across the table until her eyes end up on Katya’s.

“Uh,” Katya reaches her left arm across her body to anxiously scratch her arm, “Like, two and a half years I think?”

“Wow,” Trixie breathes, looking down at her plate. 

“Two and a half  _ wonderful _ years,” Courtney smirks, reaching across the table to place her hand on top of Katya’s. 

Katya stiffens imperceptibly. “They were decent, until Richard. How’s he doing, by the way?” She shoots a saccharine smile across the table, voice dripping with artificial sweetness.

Courtney bristles slightly, face dropping for a moment before she regains her composure. “He’s fine.”

“Oh, great!” Katya turns to Trixie. “That’s the man she left me for.”

“We got married last year, actually. He’s out of town on business.”

“Oh, is he gone a lot? My friend from high school married a businessman who’s constantly out of the country and trying to make it up to her with expensive gifts,” Trixie laughs. “I’m not sure if it’s working or not.”

Courtney shrugs, “He’s gone a fair amount, but I understand. It’s tough sometimes with no one to keep me company. Katya, you really should come over more.”

“I haven’t been over in two years,” she says coolly. “Why would I come over now?”

Courtney’s fingers trail over Katya’s wrist, “Because I miss you, silly.”

Katya opens her mouth to speak, but her head turns toward Trixie who stands abruptly.

“Hey, I actually promised my mom we could Skype today and I didn’t even realize it’s almost time for that. I’ll see you at home later?”

Katya stands, too, reaching for her bag. “Here, give me just a second to pay the bill and I’ll take you home.”

“That’s not necessary, really,” Trixie shoots her a tense smile, “I’ll grab a lyft. You enjoy your lunch!”

“It was lovely meeting you, dear,” Courtney beams at Trixie. “I do hope we’ll meet again soon.”

Trixie pushes her chair in and turns to leave, “It was good meeting you, too. Have a nice evening.”

And then Katya and Courtney are sitting alone.

“She’s nice.” Courtney remarks, pushing spinach around in the bottom of her salad bowl.

“Yeah,” Katya murmurs as she fishes her reading glasses from her purse. “She’s great.”

Silence falls over the table while Katya signs the check and tucks the tip into the small black folder.

“I’m leaving Richard,” Courtney blurts.

Katya’s brows raise in tandem and she glances over the top of her reading glasses where they’re perched on her nose. “Is that so?”

Courtney nods.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she punctuates the sentence with the closing of her eyeglass case. 

“Are you? I thought you hated him. Or at least me, for being with him. I thought you’d be happy about this,” Courtney laughs coolly. 

Katya leans an elbow on the table, sitting forward. “Courtney, you must know I don’t hate you. Why would you come see me if you thought that?”

She shrugs, dropping her fork and folding her arms. “I don’t know. He’s been so cold for so long. I guess I just miss… friendship, more than anything. Sharing that warmth with someone. And we used to be really good at that.”

Katya shakes her head, “But that was before --”

“I know, okay,” Courtney huffs an exasperated breath. “I know I fucked it up, I know I treated you like dirt and used you and there’s no reason you should forgive me. But I’m really sorry. I guess that’s really what I came to say. I’m sorry that I acted the way I did at the end of everything. You didn’t deserve that. And I don’t deserve to be forgiven for it.”

At first, she’s not sure she should forgive Courtney. But there’s a moment of eye contact, Katya peering deep into Courtney’s eyes, and Katya can see the regret in them. She can feel herself wavering, just like Courtney must’ve known she would.

“I just miss having friends,” she says softly. “I’m not asking for anything from you other than that.”

“Trixie’s turning twenty-one next week,” Katya says quietly. “We’re throwing her a surprise party in LA, if you want to come you’re welcome.”

Courtney’s eyes are shining. “Does that mean --”

“I forgive you.”

Courtney reaches across the table and squeezes Katya’s hand where it rests against the tablecloth. “Thank you.”

Katya waves her off with a smile and an eyeroll, “Yeah, yeah. Enough of this sappy shit, I’ve got work to do and then I need to get home. Is your car in the company lot?”

“I took the town car,” Courtney pulls out her phone. “I told James to meet me here.”

Katya’s keys jingle in her hand. “I’ll see you next week, then.”

Courtney nods as Katya walks away.

When she sits down in her car, she pulls her phone out of her bag.

 

**From: Katya**

**Still on that FaceTime date with your mom?**

 

**From: Trixie**

**nah there never was a facetime date**

**anxiety flare ups**

 

**From: Katya**

**Hey, I get it. Courtney is… an acquired taste.**

 

**From: Trixie**

**lol**

**what’s up though?**

 

**From: Katya**

**I need to go find a dress for the club opening next week, I’d like some company if you’re willing. Plus, I think a new dress for you is just the celebration you deserve today.**

 

**From: Trixie**

**i’m more than willing to keep you company! but you don’t have to get me anything**

 

**From: Katya**

**Nonsense! You’re free, you’ve got your life back, and you turn 21 next week. That’s a lot to celebrate, missy, and I will not be cheated of a celebration.**

 

**From: Trixie**

**hm... bringing up my age, calling me ‘missy’... you’re just trying to siphon my youth, aren’t you?**

**the fount of eternal youth is a scam, you know**

 

**From: Katya**

**Caught me.**

 

**From: Trixie**

**lol**

**come pick me up you old witch**

 

**From: Katya**

**At the red light on Merrymount. Be there in five.**

 

The first store they go to is a complete bust. There was a small handful of dresses that might’ve worked in theory, but Trixie had scoffed at the construction.

“They didn’t match the prints at the seams. It’s overpriced trash,” she mutters under her breath on the way out. “Half of the seams weren’t even pressed.”

The second store is closer, but they only get through two dresses each before they move on to another establishment.

“That sales guy was a creep,” Katya wrinkles her nose. “There is literally no reason he needed to put his hand under your dress to straighten the zipper.”

When they walk into the third store, Trixie’s breath catches in her throat.

“Oh my God,” she murmurs as she strides up to a mannequin. “Hello, beautiful.”

The rose gold sequined fabric glimmers under the lights of the boutique as Trixie circles the mannequin, inspecting the dress.

There’s a faux-wrap detailing on the skirt, and thin straps made of what appears to be chain.

A salesgirl comes out onto the floor and finds the dress in Trixie’s size, and ushers her into a fitting room. As soon as Katya sees how happy Trixie is when she gets a glimpse herself in the huge mirror outside the fitting room, she knows it doesn’t matter what the price on the tag is. That’s the dress. It has to be.

Katya finds a dress, too, much simpler and what she has deemed more age appropriate. Trixie looks at the salesgirl in exasperation and asks if there’s anyone at the boutique who can do alterations. And just half an hour later, Katya has been convinced to add a slit up above mid thigh to a dress that’s already practically cut down to her belly button.

Trixie heads out the door toward the shoe store while Katya talks in hushed tones about needing the dresses a day before Trixie had told the clerk -- after all, they have to leave a day early if they’re going to make it to the surprise birthday party.

“You booked me a  _ first class ticket _ ? I’ve never flown first class!” Trixie is nearly bouncing in her seat on the way to the airport. “I’ve barely flown at all, honestly. First class!”

“Like I said, airline miles,” Katya grins at Trixie. It wasn’t true -- she hadn’t paid for Trixie’s ticket with airline miles, she had paid with her debit card, but what Trixie didn’t know couldn’t make her feel bad. Or something like that.

The flight is short (only a little over an hour), but Trixie mentions in the Lyft to the hotel that she felt like a celebrity, which warms Katya’s heart right up. She’s always loved the idea of getting to take care of people. Before she could even afford an apartment, she daydreamed between clients about sending her friends on trips and taking care of them.

Katya had never wanted money for herself, she’d never really thought about being stable enough to buy a house or a car, never dreamed about going on shopping sprees and trying on all the clothes in the designer stores. So helping other people is really what she considered her biggest blessing.

And helping Trixie was even better.

She’s mostly rationalized the feeling to herself, says that it only feels better because Trixie’s life is so difficult. But she knows no one else will buy that -- everyone Katya meets has had a difficult life.

In moments like now, when Trixie is so absolutely thrilled about the real-life bellhops at the hotel, it’s hard to remember why Katya cares so damn much about what other people must think of her, must think of the way she treats Trixie. 

And what they must assume about Trixie because of it.

She’s reminded of it when she’s talking quietly with Willam in the hallway about the birthday cake.

“The custard filling is significantly cheaper than the fresh raspberry,” she scrolls through her emails and shows Katya the price difference. “And with what we’re paying for the cake anyway --”

“I don’t care,” Katya waves the phone away. “Raspberry is her favorite, that’s what we’re having.”

“Are you sure? We’re already spending thousands on this party, Kat, I don’t know if this is necessary.” Willam slides her phone into her bag.

Katya shrugs. “Willam, how often do I spend my money on things? Genuinely spend my money on them.”

“Not often,” she mutters.

“And this, I’ve decided I want to spend my money on. I know it’s a million little details that she might not even notice, but they need to be there, because that’s what I paid for.”

“Okay, okay,” Willam sighs. “You’ve talked to her about the ‘dress rehearsal?’” She throws up air quotes around the excuse they’ve made to get Trixie all dressed up a day before the club opening.

“She’ll be ready, and we’ll be there at ten o’clock. Which means --”

“We need to be hiding by 9:58,” Willam nods.

And hiding by 9:58 they are. When Katya flips on the lights and everyone yells “surprise,” Katya has genuinely never seen someone happier or more excited. Every moment of stress for the past few weeks has been well worth it.

The club itself is immaculate; the contractor had finished up a day before schedule and everything was installed beautifully. The stage lights glow just right and the curtains are exactly the right color.

Beyond the building itself, the pink balloon arch has just the right amount of arch, the flowers are absolutely stunning, and the sugar flowers on the cake are so incredibly convincing that three different guests have informed Katya that lily-of-the-valley is actually poisonous, so the cake shouldn’t be eaten.

Drinks flow freely, and it seems like everyone is having a wonderful time.

Then Katya sees her in the middle of the dance floor and stops dead in her tracks. Her mouth is a desert, moisture traveling instead to her hands to coat her palms. 

Trixie’s there, grinding back against Adore who has her hands on Trixie’s hips. Trixie bends her head over her shoulder at a baffling angle to connect their lips and Katya suddenly feels like she might be sick all over the brand new flooring. She hurries away to the restrooms, locking herself in the corner stall and letting the toilet lid slam down before she sits heavily.

Katya knows she’s acting like a teen at a homecoming dance, but between the drinks and seeing Trixie kissing Adore her world is tilting at an uncomfortable angle. Things have shifted just enough to the left that everything feels wrong. She lets her head rest cradled in her hands while her heartbeat calms and the feeling subsides.

She’d known that this was bound to happen some time, and she was bound to be hurt by it. Maybe not this specific brand of hurt, but she’d known at some point that Trixie would move past her experience with Brock and go on dates. She’d see other people, sleep with other people, and come home late. And to her credit, Katya has been trying to be okay with that. She really has.

With hardened resolve Katya stands and marches back through the party, toward the bar. She waves down a bartender for a shot.

And then another.

And then one more.

When she’s slammed the glass back on the bartop after the third shot is when Courtney finally finds her.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you,” she proclaims as she grabs for one of Katya’s hands.

Katya’s palms are still sweaty, but Courtney either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

“Come dance with me,” Courtney bats her lashes at Katya and presses herself close to her side.

“Um,” Katya murmurs, looking around the room. She makes eye contact with Courtney and she’s not sure what Courtney must see in her eyes that makes her take half a step away, but she’s grateful for the space to breathe.

“Are you alright?” The back of Courtney’s hand comes up to Katya’s face, resting against her forehead like she’s checking for a fever. 

Katya swats the hand away, “M’fine. I just don’t think I want to dance.”

Courtney rolls her eyes and tugs Katya toward the center of the dance floor despite her mumbled protests. 

Katya can feel the bass thumping in her chest, thinks about the joke Trixie made after a couple drinks earlier -- if they held a microphone up to her ribs they’d be able to hear her bones rattling. The thought nearly makes her laugh, but then she catches another glimpse of Trixie through the sea on people, still tangled up with Adore. Her dress is shimmering under the club lights, her pink lipstick mixed with Adore’s black smeared around her mouth, and Katya’s world shifts uncomfortably again. 

Then Courtney’s hand is on her chin, turning her attention away from the birthday girl with a tutting sound. “You’re dancing with me now, Kitty,” she turns and pushes her back closer to Katya with a smirk, “You used to be much better about not dividing your attention.”

She used to be better at a lot of things, she thinks critically.

“Sorry,” she mutters, her hands finding Courtney’s hips. 

As they dance, Katya is making a sincere effort to be in the present moment -- to let Trixie have her fun on her birthday, to keep her feelings out of the way of everyone’s good time. The vodka in her system is fighting her all the way, but eventually she’s able to send all her focus somewhere else.

The space between Courtney and Katya has grown smaller by the moment, at some point Courtney had turned around and is now pressed flush against Katya’s torso. Katya leans forward, closing the short distance between their mouths.

The next hour is kind of a blur, a movie montage pieced together, a bass-heavy dance track behind clips of making out on the dance floor, talking to friends, and making their way back to the hotel.

Katya swipes her key card in the door to the suite she’s been sharing with Trixie for the past few days and flicks on a light switch. A small living area is illuminated, a couch and a chair, a television that had apparently been left on mute all night. Three doors branch off from the space, two small bedrooms and a bathroom. Katya makes a point to let Courtney know which door is the bathroom and which is her bedroom.

Courtney nods, but Katya doesn’t think she was really listening. “Do me a favor, Kat?”

Katya gives a short hum, raising her eyebrows attentively. 

Courtney glances at the mirror in front of Katya. She stalks toward her and sweeps her hair over her shoulder dramatically, letting the blonde curls tumble over her tanned skin. “Unzip me?”

“Um,” Katya hesitates, hands frozen in mid-air. “Is that really a good idea?”

Courtney’s posture changes, and Katya’s fairly certain she catches a brief eyeroll in the mirror.

“Even if you don’t want to have sex with me because I’m not her, this dress is really uncomfortable and it needs to come off.”

“You’re not -- I don’t --” Katya stammers.

Courtney shifts on her feet, making eye contact with Katya in the mirror. “I don’t care. Please, Katya, just unzip me.”

Katya grouses under her breath as she pulls the zipper that runs the length of Courtney’s back. 

“I wish you would just look at me like you used to,” Courtney confides to the piece of glass in front of her. “I know things are different, but we used to know how to make each other feel good. Make each other feel wanted.”

Courtney reaches behind her back and takes both of Katya’s hands in her own, running them gently over her body. “It’s been so long since I’ve felt wanted,” she pauses with their hands on her hips. “We could make each other feel that way again.”

Katya can see her own face soften, but she gently pulls her hands out of Courtney’s grip. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Court.”

Courtney’s eyes flutter a little, and if Katya didn’t know better she might think she was blinking away tears.

“I know you like her, but she’s not here. And I am,” Courtney murmurs, letting her unzipped dress fall to her feet.

Katya tilts her head, genuinely confused. “If you know that, why are you okay with us doing this?”

“I’m a sucker for a girl I know doesn’t want me,” Courtney shrugs as she steps out of the pool of fabric at her feet. She loops her arms around the back of Katya’s neck, lips pressing against her jaw. “Come on, Kat. I’m here, basically begging you to use me. Begging you to let me make you feel good.”

Katya doesn’t know what to say. There’s no denying that Courtney had made her feel good, at one point, had made her feel wanted in ways no one ever had. 

But there was also a dark side to all that they shared, a layer of deceit and distrust that clouded their entire relationship. A dark side that had left Katya stuck under clouds even after Courtney was gone. And Katya doesn’t know if she dares take another chance on someone who could do that to her once.

“I don’t know,” she shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I just -- it took me so long to trust  _ anyone _ after you. I don’t know if I can trust you again.”

A sad smile comes to rest on Courtney’s face. “I understand.”

Courtney takes Katya’s hand and leads her toward the couch, “Sit.”

Katya’s baffled, but she settles into the corner of the couch anyway and watches as Courtney sits on the opposite side, perched on the arm.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m showing you that you can trust me again,” Courtney smiles. She leans back against the wall next to the sofa. “You can trust me, because I’m giving my most vulnerable self to you.”

Her hands wander over her torso and slide down her legs.

“You can trust me, because I’m going to show you how badly I want you, right now.”

Courtney lets her legs fall open and her fingers brush over her own panties, in full view for Katya.

At first there’s a feigned timidness in her movements, a nervousness that Katya’s seen her put on often that’s dispelled when she peeks up at Katya and sees her tongue dart out, licking over her bottom lip. Katya’s heartbeat rushes behind her eardrums as a moan falls from Courtney’s lips, two fingers rubbing firm circles over her clit. Dipping further down, Katya can see the spot on Courtney’s white thong that has been growing more transparent at a steady pace. 

She lifts her other hand to her breasts, kneading at the flesh through the thin lace of her bra.

Her fingers find the clasp of her bra and she shoots Katya a small smirk before slowly, teasingly pulling the bra off and dropping it on the floor. 

Katya is looking at her, lust and confusion swimming in her mind as Courtney shifts onto her knees on the couch, ready to crawl to her. The journey isn’t very long, and soon she’s straddling Katya’s hips where she’s sitting. Her arms loop behind her neck easily.

“How may I help you?” she questions, clearly a bit startled by Courtney’s sudden appearance on her lap.

“I was just about to ask the same thing.” Courtney shifts her hips in Katya’s lap, fingertips grazing over the cleavage exposed from the low neckline of her dress. “Seems like you’re wearing too many clothes, and I’d love to help you out.”

“Fuck, Court,” she groans, hands firmly gripping her hips and pushing her back just a little. “You… you really should go.”

“Do you really want that?” Courtney drag her fingers up and down Katya’s bicep at a leisurely pace. “Or do you just think that’s the proper thing to do?”

“It -- it’s just, it’s getting late is all,” she stammers as she makes eye contact with Courtney. 

“I know it is. But what do you  _ want _ , Katya?”

While she trails her fingers over Katya’s structured jawline, Katya can feel her resolve weakening. 

What’s about to happen is either going to be very good, or very bad - and at the moment, she’s not worried about what the outcome will be. Courtney leans forward, stopping millimeters away from her lips. 

“I need to know you want this, too,” she whispers, locking eyes with Katya. “I need to know the sparks tonight aren’t all in my head.”

Katya’s breath is ragged against her mouth for a few intense seconds, then she gives in. Mouths meet in an all too familiar kiss, but when Courtney’s teeth gently work over her lower lip the tone shifts. It quickly becomes desperate, tongues wrestling, teeth clashing until Katya breaks away to trail open-mouthed kisses over her jaw. She stops just below her ear.

“I want you to ride my fingers,” she admits, nipping at her earlobe. Courtney shudders at the sensation before nodding.

There’s shuffling, Courtney repositioning herself so she’s hovering over Katya’s hand where it’s sitting on her thigh. Katya isn’t even entirely sure of the progression of events that happen, but panties are pushed aside and her fingers are filling Courtney. Her hands slide into Katya’s hair at the nape of her neck and the moaning is almost obscene, the cries for  _ more _ and  _ harder _ fueling the fire in Katya.

“I know, baby,” she’s focused on Courtney with rapt attention now, taking in every facial expression, every sound she makes. Katya knows what Courtney needs, she always has, and she’s capable and well-equipped to give her all of it. The consideration behind her deliberate actions pays off and Courtney’s whines grow more frantic.

“I’m-” she gasps as her fingers grip harder at Katya’s hair. She knows what Courtney’s about to say without her having to say it, and she slips another finger into her. The added girth is enough to make Courtney come undone, moans of Katya’s name filling the room.

“Fuck,” she murmurs, collapsing into Katya’s chest as her orgasm subsides. “Fuck, that was - fuck.”

“Eloquent as ever,” Katya deadpans. 

Courtney sighs lightly, sitting up a bit and untangling her fingers from Katya’s hair. She winces as she unfurls them, stiffness evident in her slow stretches. 

Her mouth busies itself with Katya’s collarbones as her fingers reach behind Katya’s neck again, this time tugging at the halter ties.

“You don’t have to,” she says quietly, reaching back to halt Courtney’s motions.

“I know I don’t have to,” she responds, straightening her spine a bit. She almost looks shocked at the sudden shift. “I want to. Please.”

“You want to…” She trails off, unsure. Katya doesn’t know why she so abruptly has grown unsure of herself, but a glance into Courtney’s eyes gives pause to her uncertainty.

“I want to make you feel good, Katya. I want to be with you tonight. I need to,” her hand rests in the crook of Katya’s neck. “Please, I need you, Katya.”

She shakes her head, “Courtney, I know you’re in the middle of a messy divorce, and I’ve got my own shit going on. It isn’t fair to you for me to take advantage of you.”

“You’re not taking advantage of me.” She fully sits up, making direct eye contact. “I know what I’m doing. We’re both sober now. I want you to fucking use me like you used to after we broke up. I know exactly what I’m signing up for.”

Courtney bends down toward her ear, moving in close.

“Let’s help each other forget,” her voice drops to a sultry purr as her fingers trail down the thin fabric covering Katya’s abdomen.

Katya swallows harshly before nodding. “Okay,” she whispers. She stands and takes one of Courtney’s hands, leading her toward the bedroom of the small suite.

When they arrive at the foot of the bed, Courtney deftly loosens the ties on Katya’s dress. The weight of the fabric sends it careening toward the floor. Katya leans her head to the side as Courtney’s lips once again find her neck. 

There’s something different about the way Courtney is touching her. Her movements are deliberate, all slow touches over her sides and soft brushes of her lips against Katya’s neck. Courtney’s attention is entirely focused on Katya. She realizes now that Courtney had been preoccupied with other things while they were seeing each other and wonders idly whether she’d been cheating. The thought is somewhat comedic to Katya, but only because she’s worked through whatever unresolved feelings she had about the demise of their relationship long ago. 

Katya gently pushes Courtney’s shoulders until she lays back on the bed. She hooks her fingers into the sides of the younger woman’s panties and tugs them down her legs before unceremoniously stripping her own off. 

“Head on the pillow,” she directs. “After all, you knew what you were signing up for.”

Courtney moves up to rest her head as Katya crawls over the duvet.

“Same rules as after the breakup?”

Courtney nods, reaching out to try to pull Katya closer. Katya retains her statuesque stance, keeping her distance.

“I need a verbal confirmation that you understand and agree.”

“God,” Courtney scoffs, “I understand! You sit on my fucking face, I eat you out, if I need a break or can’t breathe I tap on your thigh.”

“Good,” Katya says lightly. She situates herself and swings a leg over Courtney, resting one knee on either side of her neck. 

“Maybe if I’m extra good we can use what’s in my bag,” Courtney smirks.

Katya squints in confusion. Courtney hadn’t brought a massive bag with her, but she hadn’t had a clutch like most of the girls at the party. Katya glances to where Courtney’s bright blue satchel sits on the coffee table. She swiftly leaves the bed, marching over and reaching into the purse.

“Really, Court?” Katya hoists a harness attached to a purple dildo up into the air.

“What can I say? I’m an optimist,” she shrugs.

Katya walks back over and drops the harness on the side table next to the bed, crawls back on without another word and positions herself over Courtney’s face. “Time to be extra good. Let’s see if your optimism was warranted.”

To say Courtney is good with her mouth is a vast understatement. Katya has had a lot of sex in her life with a lot of different people, but when it comes to cunnilingus, she’ll be damned if Courtney doesn’t rank somewhere in the top five. 

But she’ll also be damned if she ever lets Courtney know that. Courtney’s head is already big enough without an ex-porn-star-and-lover telling her she’s one of the best she’s ever had. 

Katya’s fingers thread through Courtney’s blonde locks, pulling harshly at the root. The action encourages Courtney, whose tongue begins working overtime in hopes of making Katya come unglued. She can’t help but yank harder at her hair when Courtney’s nose bumps against her clit, spurring her on.

“Fuck, right there,”  she encourages while her hips rock against Courtney’s face. She doesn’t realize how long she’s been grinding on Courtney’s mouth until she taps lightly on her inner thigh.

Katya freezes immediately, then scrambles to move backward and off of Courtney’s face. “Shit, I’m sorry. Are you alright?”

Courtney lets out a breathy laugh, “I’m fine, I swear. I just needed a second to breathe, you didn’t have to run all the way across the bed.”

“But --” 

“Get back over here so I can make you come, please,” Courtney smiles sweetly over at her.

Katya makes her way back to Courtney and she wastes no time resting her hands on Katya’s ass, then getting back to work.

Within minutes Katya is coming on Courtney’s tongue and she’s eagerly fucking her through it, nose pressed against her clit. She relaxes her head just a little as Katya’s pulse calms down, but keeps lapping at her folds until Katya whines and rolls off to the side to catch her breath. 

“Fuck,” Katya mutters, a hand on her forehead.

The silence lasts only a moment before Courtney pipes up.

“So. Was my optimism warranted?”

Katya huffs a short laugh and sits up, reaching toward the bedside table. “Not only was your optimism warranted, but it will be rewarded.”

Courtney giggles lightly as Katya puts on the harness and moves between her legs. Once Courtney has given her a curt nod of consent, she starts out at a moderate pace. Courtney’s nails scrape down Katya’s back lightly, making a shiver roll down her spine. She thrusts a bit deeper and lets her mouth work the side of Courtney’s neck.

“Faster,” Courtney whines as she lets one of her legs hook behind Katya’s hip. A hand settles on her waist and Katya picks up her tempo, the other arm holding her body above Courtney’s. Her fingers trail up Katya’s abdomen, brush gently over her nipples, and eventually tangle into her hair as she works away.

“Oh fuck,” Courtney moans when the hand from her waist travels up, Katya gingerly rolling her nipple between her thumb and forefinger. 

Courtney arches her back, pressing her hips into Katya’s thrusts. “Harder.”

She looks down at Courtney skeptically, feeling a little unsure and presses into her harder, but just barely. Just enough that Katya knows she can tell her request was heard, but it’s still not enough and her hips move more desperately.

“Harder,” she grits out from between clenched teeth, wrenching Katya’s hair sharply.

“Court, I’m already going pretty fucking hard, you’re already gonna be sore in the morning,” the crease between her brows displays her honest concern over the matter.

“Fuck, Katya,” she shakes her head in frustration. “You’re too nice. You’re not going to hurt me.”

“But --”

“God  _ damn it _ , Kat. Stop treating me like I’m fragile, like you’re going to break me. I’m not fragile,” her voice is strong and steady, but the angry tears gathering in her eyes do nothing to help her point. “Stop looking at me with those kind fucking eyes. Stop being so fucking nice to me. Be mean to me,” she sits up a bit, bringing herself up to Katya’s eye level partly using the fistful of hair she’s got in her hand as leverage.

“Fuck me like you hate me.”

As soon as it’s out of her mouth Katya can feel something snap in her, and she briskly pulls out of her to stand at the edge of the bed. 

A look almost like regret crosses Courtney’s face and she avoids eye contact until suddenly she lets out a surprised squeak as she’s being manhandled.

Katya flips her over so her face is pressed into the mattress and drags her knees to the edge of the mattress, lining her ass up in front of her. Courtney pushes herself up so her weight is resting on her hands and peers back over her shoulder. Katya’s hand comes down across her ass in a harsh spank just before she’s fucking into Courtney again, drawing loud moans.

The snaps of her hips are sharp, the sound of skin-on-skin mixing in with the occasional slaps to Courtney’s bottom. Katya’s exertion results in soft grunts, little noises that seem to be helping elicit more noises from Courtney as well.

“Katya,” she cries, back arching as her hands reach forward to fist into her hair. Katya pulls her back against her hips, imagining the pain sparkling over Courtney’s scalp and down her spine. 

“This is what you wanted, huh?” Her tone is authoritative, a darkness that surprises even herself. “Wanted me to fuck you so hard you’re sore tomorrow? Wanted me to fuck all the thoughts out of your brain?”

The only response she gives is a wailing moan, one hand pawing at her own breast.

Katya untangles her hands from Courtney’s hair and yanks her up with a hand pressed to her throat.

“Answer me,” she growls in her ear, squeezing her neck slightly.

“Y- yes,” she manages breathily. “Please, please I want to be sore tomorrow, I want to be brainless because all I can think about is how well fucked I am.”

“Good answer,” Katya’s hand is off her throat, the sudden lack of support making Courtney fall back to the mattress face-first. It looks as though she’s about to push herself back up, but Katya’s hand pressed on the back of her neck lets her know that she has different plans.

“So close,” she moans into the duvet. Both of Katya’s hands find her hips, fucking into her like she’s nothing but a toy for her to use. Like she had fucked Courtney after their breakup, when Courtney had shown up at her door in nothing but a coat.

Katya slaps Courtney’s ass one more time before pressing her thumb against her asshole. Courtney moans Katya’s name loudly once, and Katya can feel where her knees are trembling against the duvet. She whines repeatedly into the bedspread as Katya fucks her through her orgasm. 

Katya pulls out of her when her climax has passed and Courtney rolls easily onto her back, gazing up at her with half-lidded eyes. 

She pushes Courtney backward into the center of the bed, wasting no time in settling on her stomach between her thighs.

“What are you doing?” She lets her fingers brush a stray curl away from Katya’s face, looking down at her with a confused smirk.

“Oh, nothing,” Katya smirks back at her. She leans forward then, her tongue flicking her oversensitive clit.

“Shit,” she gasps, hands fisting in the blankets while her hips twitch instinctively. 

Katya’s lips wrap around the bundle of nerves and Courtney’s head falls back, golden blonde hair fanning across the pillow cases. Katya has always loved the view from between a woman’s thighs more than any other view on the planet. She slides two fingers into Courtney and scissors them, twists them, curls them up to stroke at her g-spot.

At the rate she’s going, Katya doubts it’s going to take much to bring Courtney to her third orgasm. Her tongue is working circles over her clit and Courtney’s breathing is becoming shallow again.

Katya slides a third finger into Courtney’s slick cunt and she can feel the muscles clenching around them, her back arching off of the bed as her ecstasy overtakes her. The only sound to leave Courtney this time around is a pitiful whine that makes Katya smirk against her, an idea forming in her mind.

As Courtney’s orgasm winds down, Katya can tell she’s waiting for her ministrations to stop, or maybe even just to slow. But she keeps going, fingers fucking into her fast and hard, tongue lapping at her folds.

Her mouth trails away from her clit, moving to Courtney’s inner thigh to bite at the tender flesh there. Courtney’s fingers tug Katya’s hair harshly at the root, a gasp sounding throughout the room that doesn’t quite sound like it came from Courtney’s lungs.

“Katya, oh God, oh,” she whines, writhing against the mattress. Her hips lift and Katya moves the hand that isn’t thrusting into her to her other hip, shoving her down and holding her still.

The stretch of a fourth finger entering Courtney is a shock at first, if the noise she makes is any indication, and her inner thighs begin to shake again.

“Come on, baby, I know you have at least one more for me,” Katya coos before ducking back down to hold her stiffened tongue against her clit, maintaining the pressure steady as Courtney once again comes undone.

A strangled cry gets caught in the back of her throat, her entire body quivering. Katya once again spurs her on until the end of her climax. 

They both roll onto their backs and lie there in silence for a moment, Courtney’s breathing evening out. Katya can feel Courtney’s eyes on her face as she’s staring at the ceiling, wondering exactly how her brain had convinced her to have sex tonight. With  _ Courtney _ , of all people. 

And it’s not even like it was a little sex. Katya had just had a lot of sex with Courtney. Her ex-girlfriend Courtney, the Courtney who broke her heart and then used her for months afterward Courtney. 

How would she explain this to -- well, she supposes it doesn’t much matter. There’s not anyone she needs to explain anything to.

“What’re you thinking so hard about?” Courtney rolls closer to Katya, throwing an arm around her waist.

Katya freezes. She had just fully had sex with Courtney, had touched her all over and let herself be touched, but the casual affection seems like much too much for her right now.

She rolls out from under Courtney’s arm, picking up her robe from where it had been thrown over the desk chair in her haste to get ready for the party. She pads into the bathroom without another word.

It takes a few minutes before there’s a soft knock on the door. Katya stands from the edge of the tub and turns on the faucet, rinsing her hands in cold water before opening the door a crack.

“I can take a hint,” Courtney says softly. She’s putting on a strong front, but Katya had spent enough time with her in this lifetime to know the look of hurt hidden deep within her gaze. “You know how to get ahold of me.”

“Wait.” Katya watches her head toward the door before taking a few quick strides to fall into step beside her, fingertips grazing her wrist. “I’m sorry.”

Courtney turns to face her, a small smile on her face. “Don’t be sorry. I knew what this was.”

Katya sighs, “That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt you, and it doesn’t mean I should’ve --”

There’s a shuffling on the other side of the door, what sounds like a key card being swiped clumsily and what might be either hushed laughter or sniffling. The door swings open a few inches before stopping at the chain lock, a drunk Trixie running into the door with a soft ‘oof.’

“Why won’t this  _ fucking _ door op -- Katya! Katya it’s you! Please, you have to let me in. I’m reeeeally drunk and Willam was trying to be nice but I ran away because I -- hi Courtney! I hope you had fun at the party,” Trixie waves with the arm that has slipped into the room, pausing her slurred speech for a moment. “I was having a lot of fun, it was the fanciest thingy I’ve ever been to and I got to dress up and get all pretty and everyone was so  _ nice _ to me, I loved it.”

Trixie blinks at Courtney and Katya for a moment, waiting for someone to say something. When no one does, she starts talking again.

“Courtney, did you go to the party with your hair like that?”

Katya glances over at Courtney whose cheeks are burning red.

“I feel like I would’ve remembered but Willam told me that I already had two pieces of cake and I didn’t remember that so maybe I’m not good at remembering things because of my age now. But your hair has been much prettier before, I’m sure of it, it’s really messy right now and --”

“Alright,” Katya cuts her off, heading toward the door. “Courtney, it’s been… well, it sure has been something. I’m going to open the door and get Trixie some water and you can take your leave, I’m sure you don’t want to be here anymore.”

“Understatement of the fucking century,” Courtney grumbles under her breath as she slips out the door.

Katya leads Trixie to the couch and leaves her there for a moment to retrieve her a glass of water. She sets the glass bends down to unbuckle the ankle straps on Trixie’s shoes.

Trixie flips through the channels on the muted television set. “Katya?” She asks quietly, fingers reaching out to play with a disheveled curl that’s hanging in front of Katya’s forehead.

“Yeah, Trix?” Katya eases the shoes off of her feet and Trixie rolls her ankles around a bit, a soft giggle escaping her lips.

“Trix, that’s like the cereal. Silly rabbit,” she giggles again.

She’s so cute, and Katya smiles and tries not to let the growing fondness take root in her chest, “Did you have a question, Trixie?”

Trixie tilts her head and stares at Katya for a moment before a delayed gasp, “Oh! Right! Where did you go when you left my party? I missed you. Violet said she saw you leave with Courtney, and you guys were really close to each other while you were waiting for a Lyft. She said she thought you guys were leaving to fuck, but I told her you’re my besssst friend in the world and you wouldn’t leave my party except for a good reason.”

Katya’s heart squeezes in her chest and she’s knocked off balance by the question, ending up sitting on the floor instead of crouching. She’s scrambling in her brain to try to come up with a good answer before Trixie realizes what she stumbled upon. 

“Well,” Katya starts slowly, still unsure of where to take the sentence. She doesn’t want to lie to Trixie, but she really doesn’t want to tell her the truth either.

“Oh!” Trixie yells, clicking the unmute button on the remote. “Love It or List It is on!”

Trixie points animatedly at the television screen. How it happens so quickly, yet also in slow motion is an absolute mystery to Katya. But Trixie’s finger clips the side of the glass and they both watch on helplessly as it careens toward the carpet. It bounces twice, flinging water through the air and all over the both of them, and then hits the stone tile of the entryway. The sound of glass shattering is somehow louder than HGTV in the background.

When time resumes its normal pace again, Katya turns to Trixie just in time to see her lower lip tremble.

“Oh no,” she whispers, tears gathering in her eyes. “Oh no I broke it, I ruined everything, I’m so sorry, Katya, I didn’t mean to,” her voice is growing louder and more panicked, and tears are starting to roll down her cheeks. 

Katya hurries to sit on the couch next to Trixie, pulling her into a one-armed hug, “I know you didn’t mean to, sweetheart, it’s alright.”

“It’s not alright,” she sniffles, shaking her head erratically. “It’s not, because you were already mad at me and then I broke the glass and it’s not even our glass and the hotel is going to be mad and --”

“Trixie, take a deep breath,” Katya shifts and takes Trixie’s face in both her hands, her thumbs wiping the tears from under her eyes. “I’m not mad at you, I promise I’m not mad. It’s just a glass.”

Trixie’s breathing becomes a little more unstable and she shakes her head again as best she can manage when her cheeks are sandwiched between Katya’s palms. “It isn’t just the glass, it’s the party, too, isn’t it?”

Katya’s trying very hard not to outright squint at her in confusion, but she figures that will only increase the chances of full-blown hysterics. “Sweetheart, what are you talking about?” 

“The hooking up thing, you know,” Trixie pouts, her hands reaching up to cover Katya’s. “You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”

Katya could not possibly be more perplexed than she is in this moment. Trixie seems to know about Katya and Courtney’s night, which is worrying enough, but now she also thinks that Katya is mad at her for some reason.

“Why would I be mad at you?” Katya drops her hands from Trixie’s face.

“You’re not mad that I was kissing Adore? I don’t know if there are rules about dating in this company, I’m not even technically in the company yet, but I just feel bad because you left right after that and that has to be why you left.” Trixie looks up at the ceiling, trying to stop the flow of tears.

“I’m not mad at you,” Katya’s hand squeezes Trixie’s knee gently. “I do need to clean this up, though.”

“Okay,” Trixie says quietly. 

She moves to stand when Katya does, but Katya turns to her. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Trixie blinks a few times before answering, “helping?”

“Absolutely not,” Katya pushes Trixie back to a sitting position by her shoulders. “First of all, it’s your birthday. And second of all, I’m not sure I trust you to clean up anything sharp right now, anyway.”

Trixie huffs a sigh and leans back against the couch, but she doesn’t argue.

Katya cleans up the broken shards as well as she possibly can, given that she doesn’t have a broom or dustpan. It takes almost an episode and a half of Love It or List It before she feels any confidence in her very slow work. 

She’s heading to the bathroom when she turns back over her shoulder, “Don’t walk over there without shoes on until we can tell housekeeping.”

Trixie nods, and Katya continues into the bathroom to wash her hands. She hears footsteps pad up to the bathroom door.

When Katya looks up into the mirror, Trixie is there behind her.

“Wait a minute. You and Courtney… you didn’t really leave to have sex, did you?”

Katya’s heart skids to a stop for a second before it begins to thump abnormally against her ribcage.

“So you did, then?” Trixie’s face falls, but she nods as she walks away. “Alright, that’s fine. Thanks for telling me.”

“I’m sorry,” Katya blurts as she rushes after her. “I didn’t want to not tell you, but you seemed so upset at the thought of me leaving your party for that and it just didn’t seem like the right time --”

“No, don’t worry about it,” Trixie gives Katya a tight smile. “I’m used to it not being ‘the right time,’” she throws air quotes around the words. “It’s fine. But hey, call Courtney back over, if you want. I’m gonna grab my stuff and head down to Willam’s room on the tenth floor. She’s probably worried and looking for me anyway.”

Her tone seems neutral, and the lump in Katya’s throat shrinks just a little bit.

“Why’s she probably worried?” Katya asks.

Trixie throws her duffel bag over her shoulder and slips on some flip flops. “She was trying to wrangle me into her room earlier, but I came here instead.”

Katya’s face must display her bewilderment.

Trixie shrugs as she pulls open the door. “I don’t know why. I guess I just missed you.”

The door closes behind her and Katya’s knees give out, the couch below her cushioning her fall.

 


End file.
